


To Start Anew

by ZeeTaoHime



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Antiva (Dragon Age), Bad Templars (Dragon Age), Circle Mages, Circle of Magi, City Elves, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, F/M, Fear Demons (Dragon Age), Fluff, Forced Prostitution, Half-Elves, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kissing, Mage Abuse and Opression (Dragon Age), Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Romance, Sexual Harassment, Solas (Dragon Age) in Love, Solas (Dragon Age) is Grim and Fatalistic, Solavellan Hell, Templars (Dragon Age), The Harrowing (Dragon Age), Time Travel, fen'an is a lavellan but not really, she's from a clan I made
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-01-13 07:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21240488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeeTaoHime/pseuds/ZeeTaoHime
Summary: Fen’an has long accepted the fact that she’s dying. The orb’s magic is killing her, absorbing her life until she’s nothing but an empty shell.Yet when darkness comes for her, in the run-down cabin her old body has decided to take its last rest, destiny sees it fit to play with the elven woman one more time.Just as quickly as her eyes close, they open again, and Fen’an finds herself inside an ancient Temple, naked.With no one for company but the Dread Wolf.|| Time Travel AU ||





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Welcome to the FINAL VERSION of my Time Travel AU. I know some of you wanted more of "I'll crawl home", but after working on the plot, I notice it just wouldn't work. I had to completely remake the entire thing and this is it!. I just hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Fen’an was scared of many things. Dying hadn’t been one of them until she was actually faced with her unavoidable death. She had looked death in the eye many times over, she had battled demons, Templars, Wardens, qunari and dragons. She had done that, unafraid. Filled with a type of bravery that had left her body along with her physical strength.

Fen’an had the authority to say that dying was a dreadful activity.

The former Inquisitor laid in the makeshift bed her companion had made for her when they had decided to make the ruined Chantry their new shelter. Fen’an found it extremely ironic that she had sought refuge inside a Chantry. They had never made her feel very secure. That was in the past, however. Andrastianism as the world once knew was no more.

“Hahren, you are awake.” The quiet reassuring voice of Innan reached her ears, but she lacked the strength to raise her head and look at him. “You shouldn’t stay in bed all day, your body needs exercise.”

“I’m not feeling well enough for it.” Her voice was weak, almost impossible to hear, and speaking hurt her throat. She missed the days she could sing. “Leave me be for today.”

“You know I can’t do that, hahren.” He walked over to her bedside. “You should at least eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You always say that, but I must insist you eat.” Slowly, he helped her sit up, his touch way too strong for her now very fragile skin. “I made soup.” She groaned and the young man chuckled at her. “You know it’s one of the only things you can eat, hahren.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to make it all the time.” She complained but drank it when Innan took the spoon to her lips. “Thank you, lethallin.”

He smiled, but the loud noise of an explosion coming from the outside, followed by angry yelling in qunlat made him jump. Innan rushed to blow the candles around the room, covering them both in darkness as he reached for his staff. The elves waited, shoulders tense, as the voices outside grew distant. Innan released a breath and walked back to her side.

“We will have to move soon.” He took the bowl in his hands again and resumed feeding her. “The qunari are killing the demons faster then we anticipated.”

Fen’an didn’t say anything. She took her time to feel the faint taste of the soup as best as she could, trying to enjoy the little things she could still do was one of the only things she was able to do in her state. It would be far more enjoyable if she had coffee, but she would take what she could get. Innan had always been too kind to her, it would be unworthy of her to complain.

“Do you think you will be strong enough to travel in a few days? Or do you need me to wait a bit more?”

This time, she decided to speak.

“You know I’m not leaving with you this time, Innan.”

“That’s shite and you know it.” The elf scowled, rising to his feet. “Please, you know you will get better in a few days, you always recover from these bad moments.”

She smiled at his reassurance. She did not believe it, but it was sweet of him.

“Not this time, lethallin. Not this time.” He tried to speak, but she glared at him with a raised eyebrow and he looked down. “You know I speak the truth, and you cannot risk your life because of me.”

“You saved mine.” His gaze strayed from the ground and locked onto hers. “It is my duty to take care of you.”

“That was years ago.”

“Two years.” He added. “It’s not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things.”

“It was for me.” She replied softly. “I am 25 and yet I look as ancient as a living being can be.” Fen’an gave him a weak smile. “The magic of the Anchor is killing me, and I think we both know my time has finally come.”

Innan started chewing on his bottom lip. He was trying to find a good argument to answer her, but she knew there was no logic in staying with her and endangering himself. Even if he insisted, she would not allow it, she would do her best to send him away. Send him to safety.

Send him to Solas.

She knew he was somewhere near Tevinter, commanding his army against June, Sylaise and Falon’Din, the only three Evanuris that remained. His plans had been met with problems he had not foreseen: The Qunari did somethings—what exactly, she did not know—and it freed the Creators from their prison, throwing the world into bigger chaos than just the fall of the Veil would have.

Fen’an saw it all. The world bled as the Gods warred among themselves. They could not possibly be simple mages, their power was too grand, too unnatural even with the Veil gone. No simple mortal could have opened the earth, caused volcanic eruptions or eradicate all of Val Royeaux with a snap of their fingers. The Evanuris were Gods in every way one could think of.

Solas was fighting a war in two fronts. The Qunari were already in Ferelden, and were pushing their way to Orlais, which had little to no resistance to offer once they came. The only thing keeping them back was the host of demons and spirits that had claimed the land. Fen’an and Innan had used it to their advantage, finding shelter where such beings were numerous and leaving once the Qunari were close to driving them all away. The strategy had worked well until Fen’an started to age. Fast.

While traveling with a ten-years-old Inan, the elven woman aged into a centenary elder in just a single night. They had needed to stay put for an entire week as Fen’an slowly got younger day after day until it stopped when she looked around thirty. They waited a few more days to see if she would return to her real age but continued their journey once they realized it wouldn’t happen. Sometime later, it happened again. She woke up as a very old woman and slowly got younger as time passed. In that second time, it stopped as she ‘turned’ forty. And each time it happened, she would get older and older.

After nearly a month in her current condition, she knew there was no getting younger this time.

“I can’t leave you,” Innan whispered and she could barely see his eyes tearing up in the darkness. “Damn it, hahren! You can’t just give up!”

“I’m not giving up, I’m accepting the inevitable. There are some things you cannot fight.”

“Hahren, please...” He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “You can’t ask me this.”

Fen’an looked down at her hand, watching the green glow of her blood in the very much visible veins in her arm. The orb’s magic—_Solas’_ magic—was devouring her. She looked away and did her best to squeeze his hand back, but she doubted he had even managed to feel anything.

“Innan, you _have _to leave. If you stay with me, you will die.” He tightened the grip on her hand. “I saved you, didn’t I? Don’t just throw that away and die because of me.”

“But--”

“No buts.” She took a break to regain her breath, already growing tired. “You have your entire life ahead of you, go live it.”

“In this doomed world?” He scoffed. “How?”

“Go to the safe haven Fen’Harel built in the north. You are elven, they will let you in.”

“He will kill me if he knows I left you behind.”

Fen’an looked at him, noticing how afraid he was. He truly feared that the wrath of Fen’Harel would be turned towards him for leaving her to her death. She would have laughed if she had the strength to do it.

“The Dread Wolf left me to die long ago.” She released a shaky breath. “He won’t punish you for taking care of me.” With a sad smile, she took her hand away from his grip “You must go.”

“Tomorrow--”

“Today.” Her voice is firm and she sees the scowl that takes over the boy’s face. “You don’t have much time.”

Innan was moving around the room and gathering his stuff, often looking at the bed as if he was about to say something, but always giving up after a second. He didn’t want to leave her, but knew her well enough to know that she would not let him stay with her. She followed him with her eyes and saw him picking up her pack, bringing it to her in the bed. “Since I don’t know if you will be able to stand anytime soon, it’s better if I give this to you before leaving.”

She took it with difficulty, her arms nearly failing, and placed it on her lap. “Thank you, Inan.”

He nodded, a pained expression on his face. “Fen’an… I don’t want to do this… Please, let me stay.”

She shook her head. “You know you can’t stay here, you will die.”

He groaned again but said nothing, just looked at the door of the Chantry they were staying in for a long minute, hesitating. Fen’an wanted him to just go. Watching him leave was hard for her too and with each second he stayed within her sight the urge to ask him to stay grew larger, but she could not do it, she could not ask Inan to stay with her. To _die _with her. It wouldn’t be fair. “You should go.” Her whisper was so low she feared he hadn’t heard her, but his shoulders tensed. “Innan, _please._”

He bit the inside of his cheek, releasing a long breath, his eyes filling up with tears. “I will tell him you are here, we will see each other again, hahren.”

That was a lie, but if that hope was what he needed to leave, then she would let him have it. “I will wait for you.”

He hesitated again and took her hand in his, squeezing it. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s a promise.” With one last squeeze, he released her hand and walked towards the door, leaving. Fen’an hoped that he wouldn’t come back, he would find nothing but her corpse. Would Solas feel when she was gone? He had never stopped trying to convince her to join him in his refuge, so maybe he would notice how her presence had simply vanished.

“I wonder if he will tell his people to come and take my body.” Fen’an murmured to herself while she stared at the ceiling. “I think he would like to give me a proper elvhen funeral or something.” She opened her pack and pulled the Foci, bringing it close to her face. “I just wish I could see his face when he realizes I took his stupid ball from him.”

The ancient artifact felt cold in her hands, devoid of the usual warm feeling of Solas magic. She was sure the fall of the Veil had affected it somehow, it didn’t make sense for it to simply lose its power. Fen’an wished the orb could help her in some way, but it was simply useless without magic. Now it served just as something to make Fen’an feel nostalgic about her days in the Inquisition, when her greatest concern was Corypheus, and not the man she loved.

Fen’an put the orb pack into her pack and placed both hands over it. Should she try one last spell to see if she would be able to destroy it? She didn’t want to risk the orb falling into the hands of any of the major players, having it back into Solas’ hands was the least of her problems considering the possibility of the Qunari or the remaining Evanuris finding it. She had to try something. She closed her eyes and reached for her mana, feeling the soothing magic react to her call. She had enough to cast a spell, she just needed to settle for which one to use. Perhaps burning it would work, if she managed to make the fire hot enough yo crack the stone.

Fen’an took the orb out again, raising it away from the bed. Reaching for her mana reserves, she called for fire. She felt the heat on her hand as the flame formed and grew bigger around the orb. She watched the flames, slowly making it hotter, and waited. It would take a while, but Fen’an was sure that she would succeed if she kept everything under control and did not waste much of her mana at once.

Then she felt a burst of mana in her core, as sudden as an explosion and gasped at the burning sensation in her gut, closing her eyes. She opened them to a world of green. The Chantry was gone, and so was the bed she had been laying on. Fen’an was floating aimlessly in the middle of nothing, she couldn’t feel her body, did she even have a body? Had the orb exploded again? She could think of no other explanation. This time, there was no Veil to be ripped open, and so it made sense that she had died in the explosion.

She tried to look around and noticed that she, at least, could move her head. Fen’an searched for something that wasn’t the green void, but there was simply nothing on sight. That was enough to shake her usual calm self, and Fen’an started to grow desperate. _I’m not dead. _She thought to herself. _I’m sure this is not death, so where am I?_

As if to answer her question, the void around her started to change. The originally light green slowly started to darken, turning the already dreadful place she was in into an even worse nightmare. She closed her eyes, her brain feeling safer in the darkness behind her eyelids than the one forced upon her by the environment; like how a child who fears the dark feels better when they close their eyes.

She waited for something to change. She was breathing hard and kept her eyes tightly shut. One minute. Two. Five. Ten. Fen’an felt her body being laid against a hard surface. _This doesn’t feel like my makeshift bed. _She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. Above her, she sees a stone ceiling instead of the barely standing ceiling of the Chantry. Fen’an’s mouth opens in a silent gasp as she stared at the stone without blinking. Her mind was working on all the possibilities of all that could have happened. Did Innan come back to drag her with him? Did the Qunari find her? Or was it Solas?

“_Merda._” She raises her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose but freezes midway. She stares at her hand. Her hand… made of flesh. Her _left _hand. “What the fuck?” Fen’an sits up, finally noticing the very odd fact that she was naked. “I--” Clutching her left wrist in her right hand, she looked around the room. She was in a Temple, an elven Temple, she could tell that by the pattern of gold in the walls and the style of the columns. The room itself was full of chests and statues and things that looked like golden wardrobes. Those clearly belonged to a very rich Elvhen.

Fen’an stood and walked over to the wardrobes. “I just hope there’s something I can wear around here.” She tried her luck with the lock, but she simply didn’t know how to open it. It was a magical lock that requires a spell for it to open. “To the chests, then.” Murmuring to herself, she opened the one closest to her. She found a long white dress-like piece of clothing and stood to shift it around in her hands, trying to figure it out what that was. “It’s better than staying naked, anyway.” Shrugging, Fen’an tried to put it on. It was too long for her and the cloth bagged in weird places. “It doesn’t matter, I will find something else once I find out where I am.”

On one of the walls, Fen’an found weird objects (swords?) that were obviously enchanted, she could feel their magic from the other side of the room. She decides not to touch any of it and instead she walks towards a massive marble door, touching the carvings on the stone. Fen’an tried pushing it, but it didn’t budge, it had probably been locked with magic, if it had been locked manually, the place would have most likely been ransacked by thieves. The door, however, was her only way out. She closed her eyes and reached for the Well of Sorrows, waiting for the pain of its resistance, but it never came. The Well was waiting for her to ask.

“How do I open this?” She whispered, testing the waters, not sure if the many priests were in a good mood or simply messing with her.

_You are opening it from the inside. _It was not a whisper as it had been when she asked about defeating Corypheus, the voices were loud and clear. _Put your magic in it and push again._

Fen’an poured her many into the stone and watched as the carvings shone in a familiar green light. The massive door opened without a single sound, revealing a far less preserved part of the structure. She stepped out of the room with careful steps, mindful of any possible traps as she worked to avoid the skeletons lying in the ground. They had swords and mismatched armor, Fen’an recognized Orlesian boots, Fereldan shields, Chasind leather and even a helmet she had seen a Rivaini pirate wearing during her childhood. Those dead people at her feet were bandits that had most likely died when trying to open the fancy marble door. The corpses were fewer as she walked further away from the door and up the stairs, the walls had holes and marks from when the thieves tried to remove the gold and silver from it, some even succeeded, leaving ugly gaps in what had been some tale about a small elven village far from Arlathan. To see such a place defiled in such a way was like a knife to her heart, she was trained to be a Keeper, to protect knowledge and history. _I can try to restore this place once I find out where I am. _She thought as she arrived on the upper floor.

There were more dead bodies in there, but not all were from bandits, and the realization hit her the moment she saw the familiar golden glint of Sentinel armor. _There were ancient elves living here. _She counted the dead elves, they had been massively overwhelmed by the invaders and she doubted any of them had actually survived. That had been not the first attacked they had to deal with, she was sure, and there had been far more elves when they first sealed themselves inside.

“You shouldn’t rot here.” She told them, despite knowing they could not hear them. “I can’t give you an ancient elvhen burial, but I can give you a Dalish one.” She looked over to the body of one of the bandits, he had died holding a golden piece of one of the wall mosaics. “Everything will be returned to its place, I promise.”

Fen’an turned right to face another door, it was slightly ajar, but it had been clearly forced open by the invaders. Inside, she found more skeletons of elves, but they weren’t wearing Sentinel Armor. Servants? Maybe to clean the Temple? She sighed and shook her head, she would look into that later, she still needed to find out where the fuck she was and why there were bandits with enough time in their hands to rob ancient temples instead of running away from the Qunari.

The room she had walked in had no way out other than the door she had come through, so she went back and went up another set of stairs, this time coming out in a bright green forest. She stopped, shielding her eyes from the sun and listened to the animals. The forest was _alive_! No demons, or wraiths or undead. Just… Life. It had been so long since she had seen something so normal as a lively forest.

That was wrong, this place could not possibly be Thedas. “It’s like the Veil never fell...” Then it snapped. Her eyes widened. “It’s not where it’s when.” Dorian’s words back at Redcliff came in mind and she couldn’t keep back the tiny smile that formed on her lips. “This is not Ferelden, that’s for sure.” She looked up at the trees, noticing all the vibrant colors of the many birds resting atop the branches. Those were _araras. _“Not Tevinter, definitely not Nevarra...” Her heart was pounding fast, she couldn't dare to hope… “Maybe northern Antiva or… Rivain.” Fuck, she hoped it was Rivain.

  
She looked back at the entrance. “But exploring my surroundings will have to wait for now.” Remembering the dead elves, her excitement died a little and she sighed. “Time to get to work.”

Fen’an went back inside and started with the bandits; she took all of their loot and placed in the corner of the room before carelessly taking their bones outside and throwing them near some bushes, to be honest, she felt enormous satisfaction in just dropping them there. It took her four trips to throw away all of the bones, she had taken their armor off to see if she would find a good price for it later, Fen’an would need proper clothes.

After getting rid of the bandits, Fen’an started to move the servants, she carefully took them out of the Temple one by one, placing them in front of the biggest tree she had found. The sentinels weren’t as hard to carry as she had expected, their armor was surprisingly light. “One of the many wonders of Arlathan’s magic, I’m sure.” She huffed, smiling. “Weightless armor.”

Now, she needed something to dig with, and that would prove to be a challenge. She had walked all around the Temple but hadn’t seen any type of shovel; Fen’an could try to use one of the shields, but it would take too long and Fen’an would start to feel hungry soon. “I guess I will have to burn you, then.” She looked down at the bones. “I’m very sorry.” Fen’an raised her hand and reached for her mana. She summoned fire, releasing just enough mana to—

She screamed as a huge wall of fire erupted from her hand, high enough to almost burn the leaves from the tall trees above her. Fen’an backs away from the flames, tripping and falling down on her butt. With wide eyes, she watched as the fire burned bright for another second before the lack of mana made it die just as fast. Breathing fast, Fen’an did her best to stand up with her legs shaking. “What was that?” Her voice barely came out and she coughed, walking away from the smoke. “How did I make a fire that big?” She looked up and saw a few scorched leaves. “The Keeper would kill me if I ever started a fire.” She missed the old Keeper.

She stood there, taking slow breaths to calm herself when she felt something. It was like a pull, deep into her mana core. It felt like someone was… _calling _her. “The Temple...” Was the Temple _calling her_? Fen’an followed to where she could feel it pulling her; down the stairs and into the chamber she had found the servants in. There was no other door other than the entrance, yet she felt herself walking towards the beautifully carved wall. She raised her hand and touched the gold, it thrummed under her fingers, as if full of magic. How hadn’t she noticed it before? That was not a simple wall.

She reached for the Well. “What is this?” She felt their conscience stir as they reacted to her call. _An uthenera chamber._ It replied, humming as if deep in thought. _You can open it as you did with the other door._

“Just like that?” The Well didn’t reply. “Back to being bitchy, I see.” Fen’an scoffed and closed her eyes. Her mana core reacted just like before, stronger than it used to be, odd and unfamiliar. “Just try not to explode everything, Fen’an.” With a deep breath, she pushed the magic into the door, watching as the carvings started to glow in a faint pinkish light. She heard the sound of locks moving and the door opened with a loud noise, revealing a chamber bigger than the rest of the Temple, and as immaculate as the room she had woken up in.

It was obvious that the servants and sentinels also slept there, it was full of the coffin-like structures she had read about in the many books her Keeper had shown her during her studies. They were all open and empty and there were more of them than there were bodies. Others had died before the bandit attack. She shook her head, she could mourn after she found out what the strange pull was. She went further in and looked at the very familiar murals on the walls. _Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This is a joke, right? _Then the wolf statues, standing proudly as she kept walking. It was him. Fuck. _Fuck!_

Her legs almost stopped working, but she forced herself to climb the steps leading to where the pull was calling her. She hesitated; maybe she could leave, run far away and leave him there, alone. She could kill him while he slept, end the threat before it even began. _It would be easy. He’s not strong enough to stop me, not while asleep. _She took the last few steps, reaching the top of the stairs and staring at Solas, who was clearly awake.

And with a head full of hair.

“What the fuck?”

He turned his head at the sound of her voice, his stance turned hostile and she braced herself for an attack, but instead of throwing a spell towards her, Solas groaned in pain and fell to his knees. Fen’an stared at him in shock, frozen in place. He tried to stand back up, but his arms weren’t strong enough to pull himself up again. “_**Who are you?**_” He hissed at her in elven. _Ancient elven_. She understood it perfectly, despite the differences between the Dalish and the ancient variation of the language; probably the Well’s doing.

“_**My name is Fen’an, **__**from**__** the Dalish clan Dirthanaris.**_” She raises both hands. “_**I mean you no harm**_.”

He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the vallaslin a bit longer than necessary, and she noticed the disgust in his eyes even as his face remained motionless. Ah, yes, his reaction to her Dalish-made Fen’Harel vallaslin was far more visceral than the one from the other time. This Solas probably hadn’t seen any of them yet, being so far away from the Dales. Fen’an took a step closer. “_**Do you want help, hahren?**_”

He looked at her in silence for a full minute before nodding. Fen’an rushed to his side and helped him get back to his feet. His long dark hair spilled over his shoulders and went down his back, it was longer than hers, and her own hair reached her tights. He stood in shaky legs, holding her forearm in a surprisingly strong grip for a man that couldn’t even stand properly.

Fen’an helped him sit down against a column and stayed put as he took slow breaths, his eyes never leaving her face. “_**How did you get in here?**_”

Knowing that the conversation would take a long time, Fen’an sits on the ground in front of him. “_**I was running from Templars and found the Temple, the other elves that here with you were killed by bandits.**_” The lie came easily. She owed the Orlesian court for becoming a decent liar.“_**All of the doors were open when I arrived.**_”

Pain flashed through his eyes for less than a second; Fen’an would have missed it if she was not so used to reading her former lover’s face. _Wait… Is he still my former lover if this Solas is seeing me for the first time in his life? _

“_**This door was supposed to be locked,**_” Solas speaks after a while. “_**Did you… unlock it?**_”

She had, but a ‘simple Dalish elf’ was not supposed to be able to do that. “_**No, I just found it.**_” She shrugged. “_**I don’t think the bandits noticed the door, it was very well hidden, but unlock**__**ed**__** nonetheless.**_”

Solas closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He pinches the bridge of his nose and then runs his hands through his hair, sighing. His eyes met hers again and she is once more overwhelmed by the beauty of him. _He does look good with a head full of hair. _“_**What happened to the bodies?**_”

“_**I was going **__**to burn them,**_” When the glint in his eyes showed signs of anger, she was quick to explain herself better. “_**I couldn’t find a way to give them a proper Dalish funeral, but I couldn’t just let them to rot.**_”

“_**And you assumed they would have liked to be buried in the Dalish tradition?**_” His question was cold, sharp. Meant as an insult, no doubt.

She was the one to close her eyes now, taking a deep breath. She had forgotten how difficult he could be. _Pride, indeed. _“_**I think they would prefer it instead of being left in the ground, rotting away while you**_” She poked his chest, hard. “_**slept in here, completely hidden and safe.**_”

Oh, if looks could kill, she would be dead. She smirked at him, expecting it to make him angrier. “_**You are right.**_” _What? Just like that? _“_**You were doing them a kindness by taking care of their resting place in the best way you could.**_” His face had softened, his anger was gone, even if the suspicion remained. “_**I apologize for my words, they were spoken in grief and pain.**_” He waited for her to nod. “_**I was startled by a very strong magical presence,**_” With doubt, he dipped his head and looked at her. “_**Did you happen to notice **__**if any mage was near the Temple?**_”

“_**Ah...**_” She felt her face heat up. “_**That might have been me.**_”

Solas stared at her, wide eyes and mouth agape. “_**That was you?**_”

“_**What?**_” She still avoided his eyes. “_**Didn’t think a Dalish elf could do magic like that?**_”

“_**That is not it, lethallan.**_” He shook his head. “_**I simply did not expect to feel such powerful magic in this world.**_”

She hummed. “_**Because of the Veil.**_”

“_**Precisely.**_” He seemed satisfied with her knowledge. “_**It was a pleasant surprise.**_”

She couldn’t help it but smile. “_**Glad I could be of service, hahren.**_” She holds back the impulse to call him Solas, remembering that he hadn’t actually told her his name. “_**What is your name, hahren?**_”

“_**My name is Solas.**_” He doesn’t lie about his name, at least, but she was still very wary about what he would tell her. “_**As you already know, I am an elf from the time of Arlathan. I was sleeping until I felt your burst of magic.**_”

“_**That’s...**_” Possibly a lie. “_**odd.**_”

Solas nodded. “_**Lethallan, do you know if any items from **__**the Temple?**_”

“_**The dead bandits had some packs full of stuff in them, why?**_” She already knew why, and it made her a bit arrogant. _Who’s being fooled now?_

“_**There is an item that holds extreme importance to me,**_” The orb, of course. “_**I would be devastated if the orb happened to be gone.**_”

“_**We could look for it if you like.**_” Fen’an offered, she was curious about it herself, she hadn’t seen the orb around the Temple. “_**Can you walk, Solas?**_”

He hesitated but nodded. “_**With some help, I think I can walk.**_” He looked up at her expectantly. “_**It is not my wish to impose...**_”

“_**Of course I can help you, Solas.**_” Fen’an rose to her feet and helped Solas to stand, she was carrying the bulk of his weight but didn’t complain. “_**Where to?**_”

“_**There is a hidden chamber in the Temple’s lower level, we should start there.**_” She nodded and slowly but surely, they made their way out of the uthenera room. Solas made them stop as he looked at the old bloodstains on the ground, his face unreadable.

“_**It was not your fault.**_” Fen’an offered what little comfort she could.

“_**Thank you.**_” It’s all he says.

Walking down the set of stairs leading to the room Fen’an had woken up in was a trial of patience and strength. The slow pace in which they walked was not what really bothered her, but holding Solas up was starting to have its toll on her, especially with gravity against her. When they reached the lower chamber, Fen’an had to ask for a short break. Solas, at least, apologized. It wasn’t really his fault, but she didn’t care at all while trying to calm her breath.

“_**We are not far.**_” He assured her when they resumed walking.

“_**Well, we will still need to go back up.**_”

That made him chuckled. “_**I am glad I’m not you, lethallan.**_”

She snorted. _This good humor won’t last when he finds out that his orb is nowhere in sight. _Fen’an was very glad that he couldn’t read minds, or he would have already sensed her fear and nervousness about not knowing where that damn ball was. Having to deal with Corypheus again was not high on her priority list. They came closer to the open door and Solas breath hitched, whispering something that she couldn’t hear. Fen’an took him inside and by the way his body tensed, she knew he had already noticed that the orb wasn’t there.

“_**It is not here.**_” She hears his whisper this time. “_**It can not...**_” He tears himself from her and comes falling down again.

“_**Solas!**_” Fen’an catches him, nearly falling down herself. “_**Solas...**_” She hesitated. “_**I’m sorry.**_”

He shook his head. “_**It can not be gone.**_” His voice was merely a whisper. He then looked at her, eyes sharp. “_**Are you sure you have not seen it?**_”

Anger overcame her quickly. “_**Are you accusing me?**_” It came out as a growl and she simply dropped him back on the floor. “_**I’m helping you!**_”

“_**My suspicion is to be expected, lethallan.**_” His ability to remain apparently calm all times was extremely annoying. “_**All of the servants are dead, and you are the only other living soul around,**_” He looked her over, scowling. “_**You are even dressing the clothes of one of them! An item that was stored in this very room.**_”

“_**Did you expect me to walk around naked or something?**_”

“_**I do not see why you were naked in the first place--**_”

“_**I was being hunted by Templars!**_” She hissed at him. “_**My clothes were ruined!**_” She could feel her mana reaction to her anger, it was harder for her to control it for some reason, harder than she remembered. “_**But I don’t ow**__**e**__** you any explanation, **__**anyway.**_”

“_**You are in my Temple--**_”

“_**Oh, I’m so sorry I have invaded you Temple, my lord!**_” Fen’an couldn’t believe him. Was he really implying that she was some sort of thief? The absolute _gall _of that man. “_**I will leave at once, I’m sorry that I **__**caused you pain with my lowly presence!**_”

That seemed to hit something inside of him because his expression changed drastically; his suspicion gave way to shame in a matter of seconds. “_**Lethallan, I...**_” He takes a breath. “_**It was not my intention to make you feel… inferior.**_” Solas truly looked hurt and his voice was sincere. “_**Know that I am no Lord, and you need not call me by any titles. I am simply Solas.**_”

“_**Then why do you have your own Temple?**_” The question left her lips faster than her mind could have screamed at her to hold it. “_**No ‘simply Solas’ would have an Uthenera chamber all to himself.**_”

“_**I never said I was simply Solas before, Lethallan.**_” He used the same playful tone he always had when they had their banters in the rotunda, and her heart skipped a bit. “_**But this is what I want to be now. Simply Solas.**_”

Fen’an couldn’t help but smile, but looked down to hide it. “_**Well...**_” She looked up at him. “_**Nice to meet you, Solas.**_”

“_**Nice to meet you, Fen’an.**_”

They stared at each other for an entire minute, staying in the familiar comfortable silence Fen’an remembered and missed. That was dangerous, she could not let her lingering feelings cloud her mind now, she had a chance of preventing the terrible future she had come from and the love she still felt aching in her chest was a distraction she couldn’t afford. Fen’an knew she would not be able to leave him to die, much less kill him herself; her only hope was to make sure none of his plans actually work.

She was the one to break their silence. “_**We should go back.**_” He nodded and she helped him up. “_**Do you think you can help me with...**_” She hesitated, not sure about how to talk about the skeletons waiting for her outside of the Temple. “_**with your companions?**_”

“_**I am not sure, but I would like to be there nonetheless.**_”

They started the long journey back up the staircase; they had to take breaks along the way, the effort was tiring for both of them. Outside, she helped Solas to sit down and rest against a tree. He told her that the closest they could do to an Elvhen burial would be burning the bodies with Veil fire; the Veil was thin enough for her to be able to cast it, but she was worried about almost getting herself killed with her own spell again. Fen’an took great care in controlling her mana and, slowly, the greenish flame appeared in her hand, burning calmly. She set the bones ablaze and extinguished the flames on her hand.

They both watched as the bodies burned, sitting side by side. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, he didn’t turn his gaze from the fire, seeming deep in thought. Fen’an could see the guilt and grief in his eyes, she had seen it many times over and that was an emotion he could no longer hide from her.

The sun was setting when the fire burned out, the bones now nothing but ashes that were quickly blown away by the cool breeze. They remained for another minute before Solas asked to return to his uthenera chamber.

“_**We could use something to eat.**_” Fen’an didn’t argue, she was already feeling the first pangs of hunger. She took him to the chamber and helped him lay on the surprisingly comfortable stone structure he had been sleeping. “_**There is probably still some of the rations the servants stored for themselves, they are highly magical and should have endured the passage of time just fine.**_”

“_**I don’t suppose they will last forever.**_”

“_**Not without the servants to make them, no.**_” He admitted with a sigh. “_**Being a servant in an uthenera chamber was one of the highest honors an elvhen could achieve and their teachings were kept in secret from the rest of Elvhenan.**_”

“_**We will need to leave when the rations end.**_”

He nodded. “_**That is correct, but there should be enough to keep us fed while I regain my energy.**_” Solas closed his eyes and rested his hands atop his body. “_**The unattended uthenera could have killed me, I have barely any energy or mana left right now. I need to sleep as much as I can before we depart.**_”

“_**I see.**_” She didn’t argue, Fen’an welcomed the time to think of a plan; Solas’ weakness served her well. “_**I will eat something, then.**_”

Solas just hummed in response.


	2. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'an and Solas venture out of the Temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there my dear readers! It's been a while, but here I am! 
> 
> This chapter is more than 5k words long, but it's not as long as our dear prologue. In this one, I wanted to explore Fen'an's interactions and relationship with Solas, so there's quite a bit of 'quality time' between them and some nudges towards the first big issue those two idiots will have to face soon enough. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Thanks to the two kind souls who left me comments, you made me write faster than I thought I could!

It took a week for Solas to be able to stand on his own, and two more days for him to walk for a bit before growing tired. They were communicating only in Common now, growing used to doing so before venturing out to the human-ruled world.

“We will need to move soon.” Fen’an forced herself to swallow another bite. “These rations won’t last much longer.” And she already couldn’t stand eating them every day.

“I would like to rest for another day if you do not mind.” If he felt as disgusted as her when eating the dry biscuit, he didn’t show. “Besides, we still have to decide where to go next.”

She scoffed. “That’s on you, I haven’t heard a single suggestion ever since you told me we would need to leave eventually.”

“That is because I am still unsure about where to go.” His tone, always so calm, strained a bit with annoyance. “I have been searching the Fade for traces of a type of artifact I need, but I have been unsuccessful so far.”

“In short, you have no idea where to go.” Fen’an pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I do not and I apologize for it.” Solas ran his hand through his hair. “You can choose our destination if you wish. I must move if I want to be able to see more of the Fade.”

“I’ll think about a place to go, then.” She stood, not wanting to waste much time just sitting around; she needed a plan and as the master procrastinator she was, she had none. “I’ll leave you to rest, I’m sure I will have thought of a location to go by tomorrow morning.”

“Fen’an,” She turned to face him when he called her name. “If I could ask one last thing for today...”

She nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I would be very grateful if you could help me with my hair.” Oh yes, the _hair_. She was still not used to it. “I can not possibly travel with it dragging on the floor behind me.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Well, your hair is longer than mine, it will definitely be a problem once we got out to the woods.”

There was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “What about your hair, lethallan? It is very long as well.”

“No!” She fell for his bait, laughing. “No, no-no. Not my hair. No.” Solas was smiling now. “My hair is not even close to reaching the ground, _and _I’ll braid it before we leave.” She looked him dead in the eyes. “Don’t you dare come near my hair.”

“I will keep your warning in mind.” He chuckled and turned his back on her, offering her a metallic object that looked like some sort of scissors.

Fen’an went straight to work and the only sounds that could be heard on the room were the hair being cut and falling into the ground in heavy thuds. She silence allowed her time to ponder on the odd situation she had found herself in. Living with Solas in an ancient uthenera temple, eating disgusting elven rations and cutting his hair. As if Solas having hair wasn’t odd enough. Yet, despite the strangeness of the ordeal, Fen’an had found herself falling in some sort of routine. She would wake up and check on him, leaving some of the dry biscuits near his altar and venturing out to scout the area around the Temple, only returning when hunger made itself known; she would then fetch herself some biscuits and eat by the entrance, watching nature move on with its day.

Solas would spend much of the day sleeping, but when he was awake, he was far more talkative than she remembered him being during their first days together at Haven. She wondered if that was because this version of him kept fewer secrets from her and it made him feel more comfortable, more at ease. He didn’t need to be vague when she asked about Arlathan and ancient magic and was always happy to share his knowledge. Without pretending to have seen it all in second hand, his stories were full of details he had felt the need to hide before. It gave her a sense of familiarity, of companionship. If not for the lack of noise from the mages studying above, Fen’an could have just closed her eyes and pretend that she was in the rotunda again, listening to his serene voice as he painted his murals.

Oh, how easy it would have been for her to fall in love with him, hadn’t she known what she did.

She took a step back from him and watched him run his long fingers through his hair, which now reached the middle of his back. She had expected him to ask her to shave it off completely, yet he surprised her again. _Maybe he only shaved his head when he decided to join the Inquisition_. She thought to herself and gives him the scissors back with a smile, which he returns after a soft ‘thank you’.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, lethallan, thank you.” kicked the fallen hair to the side, getting it away from the altar. “I do not want to keep you from your rest.”

She nodded. “See you tomorrow.” Fen’an makes her way to the chambers she was sleeping in; she immediately tucked herself in the simple bed near the corner, moaning happily. The next day, she would tell him they needed to head into the nearest village; Fen’an had found a road when scouting and was adamant on reaching civilization as soon as possible. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her.

And opened her eyes to see the familiar greenish color of the Fade.

It had yet to take a shape, waiting for the Dreamer to transform it into what she saw fit; and that was what she did. She pulled her own memories forward and the Fade changed around her, becoming the small meadow she had lived in during the first year after disbanding the Inquisition. It was a perfect copy; her small Aravel was there, and her hart was tied to it, eating calmly, the many flowers that covered the ground during spring were there as well, making the meadow bloom in many different colors.

Fen’an sat down on the soft grass, looking up at the sky; of all the things she had missed, the sky was one of the main ones. It had turned an ugly shade of red after the Evanuris were unleashed and the light blue was a welcome sight. Ah, to have such small things back made her feel more alive than ever.

That was when she felt him, wandering into her dream, curious. Solas’ steps came into a stop when he entered the meadow as he took his time to observe it with that familiar look of curiosity in his eyes, always wishing to learn. They had a routine of showing each other places they had lived and told what made each place so important. Fen’an had been extra careful not to show him much and she was sure that he did the same, yet it didn’t matter much to her, the memories of Elvhenan that he would show her were so greatly detailed that she regretted having to wake up.

“Where are we?” Solas sat down at her side, his eyes on the hart. “There is an aravel, but this is not a Dalish camp.”

“No,” She looked at the memory of her old mount, she missed him dearly. “This is one of the places I camped for a while, I loved it. It’s in the Frostbacks.”

“It is very peaceful, you made a good choice.” He hummed and Fen’an smiled at that.

“I try to find peace whenever I can. I missed being around people, though… A hart is not the best conversation partner.”

“It was a marvelous beast,” Solas observed the animal with clear interest. “It has been a while since I saw a Pride of Arlathan Hart, it is good to know that the species still live, even if they lost the characteristic golden fur.”

“Wait for a second,” Fen’an interrupted, looking at the elf with wide eyes. “They had _golden _fur?”

He gave a small smile at her enthusiasm. “Not exactly made of gold, but the color was the same and it shone when hit by light; it was a beautiful sight to behold.”

Fen’an looked back at her hart, trying to imagine what it would have looked like. She felt Solas' magic around her and watched as he reshaped the hart himself; the animal grew bigger and its fur changed to a mix of golden, caramel and brown, while its antlers became as white as marble. Her mouth opened in wonder and she was quick to stand and walk towards it, raising her hand to feel its fur; it was the softest thing she had ever felt before and watching it shine as she ran her fingers through it left her mesmerized.

“Your reactions to what I show you are always fascinating to watch.” His comment made her freeze for a moment, eyes wide.

_Did he just…?_

“You enjoy watching me?” The stupid question left her mouth on its own and she felt her face grow hot, quickly looking at the hart again.

Fen’an heard him clear his throat loudly and she gazed at him from the corner of her eye, noticing the red on his cheeks and how it reached the point of his ears.

“Did you think about where we should head out to?” He changed the subject, but Fen’an already had the answer to her question, and knowing he was somewhat fond of her in this timeline as well was not as terrifying as she thought it would. “The sooner we find the artifact I am looking for the best.”

“I will pretend you didn’t just ignore my question.” She smiled at how the red on his face darkened. “There’s a village somewhere south of here, I wanted to try to find it.”

“That is a good plan.” Solas raised his hand to gently pet the hart’s neck. “We can decide where to go from there.” There was a minute of silence before he spoke again. “Would you like to see anything else?”

“From the time of Elvhenan?” Solas nodded and Fen’an smiled softly at him. “How was music like?”

“Magical, as you can imagine.” He turned to her, the palm of his hand facing up. “With the Fade all around us, we could use our magic to produce majestic melodies.” There was a thread of light dancing around his finger, making a sound Fen’an had never heard before as it changed color, changing the tune.

She watched the light, listening to the unknown sound as Solas used magic to compose the most beautiful thing she had ever heard in her life. “This is...” She searched a word for it.

“I know.” Fen’an heard the melancholy in his voice; the pain his guilt caused him whenever he remembered that the modern elves couldn’t experience their true natures because of what he did. She did not dare look into his eyes, she did not dare to allow herself to pity him again.

“Let me show you something now.” She took his hand.

* * *

Fen’an took a deep breath and opened her eyes, staring at the trees in front of her. She was finally leaving the temple. She was dressed in the plainest clothing she managed to find, but it would have to be enough; she already attracted too much attention because of her ears and tattooed face.

“Are we ready to head out?”

She looked back at the sound of his voice, taken aback by the sight of the familiar “hobo” look from the time of the Inquisition. Fen’an wasn’t expecting such a slap to the face; at least he still had his hair. “I was waiting for you actually.” She managed to reply, trying to smile. “I don’t think we will be able to get there before nightfall, but I wanted to leave the forest before it gets dark.”

“Ah, yes.” He hummed, walking to her side. “A wise strategy.”Solas gave her a small smile. “Shall we?”

Fen’an smiled back. “Just follow me.”

She was the one to guide him through the confusing paths of the forest, slowing down for him when she noticed his breathing growing harder. They made a few stops for Solas to sit down, drink some water and rest until his legs stopped shaking enough for him to stand again. Fen’an ran her hand across his back as he sat down with his eyes closed, forehead full of sweat; he looked up at her with an apologetic expression and she smiled weakly at him.

“We could camp here and keep going tomorrow--”

“No.” He rose up to his feet with great effort, nearly falling back to the ground. “You wished to arrive at the village today, we should not be delayed by this.”

She scowled. “You can barely stand!”

“Just...” He takes a deep breath. “Just walk a bit slower with me, if possible.”

Fen’an nodded and kept to his side, helping him walk. At the rate they were moving, Fen’an doubted they would reach the end of the forest before darkness fell upon them, but she refrained from telling Solas that, he already looked stressed enough. With her arm firmly around his back, Fen’an could feel when his breath grew harder or when his body shook with the effort of keep going. She did her best to take frequent breaks, saying she needed to drink some water, regain her breath or take a bathroom break; if Solas believed her or not, he didn’t show, but those little rest sessions actually helped them move a bit faster; the Solas she knew was nothing if not practical.

As the hours passed, it became clearer that they would not be leaving the forest that day, and Solas’ mood soured, clearly displeased with himself. “Solas,” She called his name and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. “We should camp here for the night.”

“It is sensible.” Always with a calm demeanor, Solas did not argue this time. “I can help you search for wood.”

“Or you can sit down here and rest.” She pushed him down gently, holding back a chuckle when he huffed. “I can find some sticks myself, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I will be back in no time.”

He looked at her for what felt like an entire minute before sighing and resting his back against a tree. “Be careful, lethallan.”

“I will, don’t worry.” With a smile, she went left, remembering a place she had seen during her scouting.

As an elf, the darkness wasn’t as hard to navigate as it was for humans; her eyes glowing slightly in the dark, visible only to other elves. The Dalish were most lethal at night and few humans dared attack them under the cover of darkness; if they even managed to survive long enough to find the camp before the scouts took them out.

Fen’an collected smaller sticks, adding them to a pile near a rock she was using as a reference point. If she was lucky enough, she could even find an animal and feel the sweet taste of meat on her tongue again… How she hated those damn biscuits! Then she heard it, voices coming her way, heavy steps hitting the soil with little care. Humans. The elven woman acted quick, jumping towards the pile and scattering the sticks around; she then ran to the tallest tree and climbed it swiftly, getting out of eyesight just a fully armored Templar came into view, followed by four others.

“Do you think the Knight Commander will be angry that we didn’t bring any of the escaped mages alive?”

“They fought back.” The one leading the group groaned. “He told us to use lethal force if the pests didn’t cooperate.”

Fen’an was tense, her hand held tightly onto the branch; her heart was beating like crazy against her chest, the sound loud on her ears. _Had they been hunting mages nearby? Did they feel the magic she released a few days prior?_ She doubted it, but the little paranoid voice in her mind whispered the opposite. The dagger she carried on her tight felt heavier than ever and her hands itched for her to use it, but the more rational side of her held her back; Fen’an couldn’t possibly fight four heavily armed Templars on her own.

“Still, two of them were favored at court, the Knight Commander will have to explain to the nobles why the Circle didn’t send their favorite pets.” Another one huffed. “The nobles are the worse part of the job.”

“No,” The templar with greasy hair smirked. “The worst part is when you are assigned to the men’s bathing chambers when you know that, just a few doors away, some lucky fuckers are watching the ladies.”

The group laughed and Fen’an scowled, her fingers earning for the dagger again.

“Let’s just take some wood and make camp near that river.” The one who seemed to be the leader barked at the others after the laughter died down. “We need to be back in Antiva City in a few days.”

They collected the sticks Fen’an had scattered around and left, taking the same path in which they had come from. She waited a while, only coming down when she saw the light of the fire coming through some of the foliage; they were far enough. Fen’an tip-toed away from that place and rushed back to where Solas was waiting for her.

His eyes widened when he saw the panicked look on her eyes. “Lethallan, what is happening?”

“Templars.” Fen’an helped him up urgently. “We must leave, now!”

Solas didn’t question her and moved as fast as his exhausted state allowed him to. Fen’an hurried him towards the edge of the forest, feeling a bit bad when she heard Solas’ heavy breathing at her side, but he seemed as focused on getting away from the Templars as her; that made her feel better about putting him through all that. Fen’an only stopped when she was sure that they had put enough distance between themselves and the humans; Solas was visibility shaking from the effort while Fen’an’s legs were shaking because of the fear running through her veins.

“I think we can rest here for a while.” She saw relief in Solas’ eyes at her words and he was quick to sit down and promptly resting his back against a tree, panting. “We should move before the sun comes up, though. I heard them saying that they are going to move at first light.”

“We still have some time.” He spoke with difficulty. “You should sit and rest, otherwise we will not be able to go very far when it is time to leave.”

She sat down and closed her eyes, trying to slow down her breathing so that she could think straight. “I didn’t expect to find Templars around here.”

“I am sure you did not expect to find an ancient elf in uthenera as well.”

“No, definitely wasn’t expecting that.” She chuckled and opened her eyes to look at him. “What’s the artifact you need to find, anyway? You never told me.”

Solas hesitated. “It is a mirror.” His answer was simple but, surprisingly, he elaborated. “It was used as something akin to a door that would lead the person to somewhere else; you could enter one in Ferelden and end up in Nevarra.”

“You are looking for an Eluvian.” She hummed, searching his face for a reaction.

“I--” He was taken aback. “Yes, the object I seek is an Eluvian.” Solas looked at her with curiosity. “How do you know of them?”

“The Dalish clans know they exist, even if most of us don’t know what they are for.” She shrugged. “Some think it’s a mirror that would let them communicate with people far away, and that’s not technically wrong.” Fen’an smiled. “We never got to activate one though...”

“Perhaps a book about the matter survived the fall of Arlathan.” He offered, but Fen’an only shook her head.

“Even if it did, most of our knowledge of ancient elvhen was forgotten because of slavery and the Chantry’s purge of our culture.”

“It is always a tragedy when the wonders of history are destroyed by people who do not understand them.” He gazed up, seemingly watching the starts. “Fear is the world’s greatest evil.”

“Not fear,” His gaze returned to her and it was her time to look up. “Greed.”

He hummed in agreement. “Indeed.”

Fen’an turned to watch him and noticed how he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Was he thinking about the Evanuris’ greed? How their petty disputes ruined the lives of thousands and caused him to create the Veil? Even now that she knew everything, Solas was still a mystery. Looking at him now, a tired man who was barely able to stand on his own, it was hard to imagine him as the God who wanted to tear reality apart.

“You should be the one to rest first.” His voice brings her back to reality. “I can stay awake for quite some time, even now.”

“Are you sure?” He did look better, but Fen’an didn’t want to take any risks. “I don’t want to worsen your condition.”

Solas shook his head. “I appreciate the concern, lethallan, but I am adamant that you rest. You will not be able to defend yourself if you are too tired.”

He login made sense. “Very well, but wake me up before the sun starts to rise so that you can get some sleep too.” She pointed her finger at him, frowning.

“I will, lethallan.” Chuckling, he placed a hand over his heart. “I swear it.”

Fen’an rolled her eyes and snuggled herself against a tree, closing her eyes. She fell asleep instantly.

* * *

The sun was about to rise when Fen’an and Solas saw the light from the watchtower near the town’s gate. Their short rest had helped them keep a steadier pace and Fen’an’s heart was more at ease now that they were walking further and further away from the Templars she had found at the forest. There was the risk that those idiots would catch up with them, but she hoped to just ask for directions, have a hot meal and then go on their way, avoiding the roads leading to Antiva City. She had told Solas her idea and he had wholeheartedly approved of it.

As they approached the gates, the silhouette of a human became visible. “Halt! Who are you two?”

“Just two elves!” Solas yelled back. “We were both attacked and we are searching for a Chantry to take shelter in.”

“Elves? Did those Tevinter bastards we have been having trouble with caught you?” The man groaned. “We have already asked for help from the Capital, but nobody sent anyone.” He raised his arm. “Open the gates for these poor sods, and find someone to send them to the Revered Mother.”

A young man rushed to help Fen’an to support Solas’ body and they were let into the city. It was still too early and only a handful of guards were on the streets; they watched the trio with cautious eyes and hushed whispers; Fen’an heard them mention the words ‘Tevinter’ and ‘slavers’. Was it that common for elves to be attacked in that part of Antiva?

As if he had read her mind, the young guard spoke up. “Young elves have been disappearing for a while, the Mayor asked the rest of the elves to stay inside the walls.”

“And you are sure Tevinter slavers are behind it?”

“Yes-- I mean,” He was taken aback for a moment. “That’s what those Templars said when they came by.”

Of course.

“I hope they loose interest on my people, then.” Solas spoke to avoid an argument, not wanting to risk it when he noticed how tense Fen’an was. “Personally, we just need a decent meal and a few hours of rest so we can be on our way.”

“Are you sure? You look pretty bad.”

“I am feeling much better than I look, I assure you.”

“Well, the Chantry is just up ahead.”

A woman wearing the familiar red and white robes waited for them at the doors; she looked to be in her late thirties, her face held a severe expression and her bright blue eyes held a gaze sharp as a knife. Fen’an had no doubt that that was the Revered Mother herself, not some Sister sent in her stead. At their approach, the woman moved to open the Chantry’s doors.

“Take the elf to the room near the kitchens.” The Mother said dryly, rushing them inside. “One of the sisters is making something for them to eat.”

Fen’an and the young guard placed Solas on the small bed and he sighed in relief. The guard took a step back and allowed Fen’an to bend over to take the elf’s face in her hands. She whispered a soft ‘are you alright?’ to him which he replied with a nod and a small smile. The Mother did not take her eyes away from them, especially focused on Fen’an’s face. Tense, she ignored the human woman and grabbed the wet cloth a young sister gave her; she used it to clean the sweat from Solas’ face.

“Thank you, lethallan.” He murmured before looking up at the Chantry Mother. “You as well, Revered Mother.”

The woman nodded. “I couldn’t possibly not help you, the Chantry is open to all who need it. Do you need a healer?”

“That is not necessary, thank you.” Solas shook his head. “A few hours of rest on a real bed will be enough.”

Her eyes turned to Fen’an. “What about you, lass?”

“I’m fine, there is no need for a healer.” As usual, the nervousness Fen’an was feeling made her Rivaini accent stronger, earning her a curious look from the humans. “We are mostly hungry.”

“Food will be ready soon.” She nodded. “What are your names?”

“Solas.”

“I’m Fen’an.”

“Very well, I am Mother Claire, and this is Sister Elena.” The younger woman waved shyly when the Mother spoke her name. “Sister Lucretia is the one cooking something for you two, she will be here soon.”

“Thank you again, Revered Mother.” Solas smiled.

Glancing towards Fen’an one last time, the Mother left with the Sister, joining the young guard outside. Solas reached for Fen’an’s hand and placed his index fingers against his lips when she looked at him. She nodded and remained silent; they both waited for a few minutes until Fen’an heard a low and annoyed huff and the steps of the Revered Mother walking away from the door.

“_**She’s a very suspicious creature, the Revered Mother.**_” He whispered in elven.

“_**She is.**_” Fen’an didn’t comment on the fact that he hadn’t let go of her hand, nor did she pull it away herself. “_**And I have a feeling that she’s not very fond of me.**_”

“_**Humans tend to be like this towards Dalish elves.**_” Taking a slow and shaky breath, he continued. “_**We should not stay here long, the sooner we leave, the better.**_”

“_**I agree, but are you sure you can travel like this?**_” Fen’an bit her lower lip. “_**You don’t look very well.**_”

This brought a wicked smile to his face. “_**Lethallan… While I am truly tired, it is not as grave as I make it look like.**_”

She looked at him, mouth open, before she actually realized what the man was saying. “_**You absolute ASS!**_” She shrieks at him, taking he hand away from him and slapping his arm. “_**I was worried about you!**_”

Solas had the _gall _to laugh, which made her scowl at him. “_**You’re an idiot.**_”

“_**Can you truly blame a man for wanting to have some fun?**_” At seeing her displeased expression, his own demeanor changed. “_**I am sorry, Lethallan, it was not my intention to cause you distress.**_” At that, Fen’an dropped her act and smiled; Solas raised an eyebrow, eyes shining with amusement. “_**You are certainly wicked yourself, Fen’an.**_”

“_**You deserved it.**_” There was knocking on the door and Fen’an stood up in the blink of an eye, putting some space between herself and Solas. “Yes?”

“This is Sister Lucretia, I have brought food!” The bubbly voice behind the door had a strong Antivan accent. “Could you maybe open the door for me?”

“Of course.” She quickly opens the door and it’s greeted by the sight of a very tall, dark-haired woman with a big smile on her face.

“Thank you so much!” She rushed inside and placed the tray on top of the small wooden table. “I made a stew, I’m sorry if it doesn’t have the best of tastes, I’m not very good at cooking.”

“I am sure it will taste just fine, Sister.” Solas sat up on the bed. “Besides, what truly matters is that your meal will fill our stomachs, after all.”

“You are very kind,” There’s a hint of red on her cheeks and Fen’an couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m sure it tastes fine.” Fen’an walked towards the table and the delicious smell reaches her nose. With a delighted sigh, she hands Solas a bow. “This smells amazing, so it’s a good start.”

The Sister’s smile widened. “I used my mother’s recipe!”

Solas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see you used elfroot in this one, quite an interesting choice.”

“Ah, that was all my mother’s idea.” The Sister was beaming at the praise. “Revered Mother Claire doesn’t really approve of using elfroot, but we all know how mean Orlesians can be, even here.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” Fen’an chuckled and took a spoonful of the stew into her mouth. It tasted incredible. “Sister, this is amazing!” She took another one and sighed. _Finally_ something other than those foul biscuits.

“It is indeed.” Solas agreed, eating in the same dignified manner Fen’an remembered. “I do wonder why you would apologize for it.”

“Ah, Revered Mother Claire never lets me cook.” Lucretia looked down. “She said it tasted foul.”

“That woman is the only foul thing here.” Fen’an murmured and the Sister held back a giggle. “So, she thinks your food is terrible and tells you to cook for us? What a good _Revered Mother _she is.”

“Well, she doesn’t like elves.” She sighed. “If the Mayor wasn’t so adamant about protecting _all _our citizens, I don’t think she would have cared enough to help you.”

“It is always a tragedy when those of faith have so little of it.” Solas, who had already finished his meal, spoke up. “The Chantry was supposed to spread love and charity, yet their ranks are filled with hateful people.”

“Harsh words, but true ones.” The Sister sighed. “Well, I’ll take my leave now.” She opened her door. “It was a pleasure to meet you!”

“The pleasure was ours, Sister.” Fen’an smiled and watched as she left, closing the door behind her. “She’s elf-blooded.” She said after a minute.

Solas hummed. “How do you know?”

“Mostly by what she told us about the Mother, why would she treat Lucretia so badly?” Fen’an placed her now-empty bowl back on the table. “Besides, she has the elfy nose.” She chuckled. “Not as telling as the black sclera or slightly pointy ears, but definitely elven.”

Solas chuckled. “You have quite the eye, lethallan.” His sentence was interrupted by a yawn. “In the Fade, I saw memories of how elves live in this age; to have fallen so low is...” He hesitated. “a terrible tragedy.”

_Is that why you want to tear down the Veil? All for elvhen glory, huh?_

“It really is.” She was hit by her own melancholy. “We tried to rebuild in the Dales, but Orlais destroyed it when we refused to bend to their will.” Fen’an looked at the open window, watching the sunrise. “Twice have they tried to destroy us and twice have we endured; much was lost and forgotten, but we are trying to remember.”

Solas remained silent and as she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, she saw him deep in thought; was he considering what she said? Fen’an remembered how hostile he was regarding her people, but that was after a year awake, and while he apparently had had contact with the Dalish while in unthenera, she was the first Dalish he met in person; his first experience in sharing his knowledge. Fen’an just hoped that their ‘friendship’ would soften his harsh opinion if he even came to think like that with all the changes her presence was making.

“You should rest.” Her voice took him out of his musings. “We will need to move soon.”

“You need the rest as much as I do, Fen’an,” He pointed out. “Do not neglect yourself on my account.”

Fen’an scoffed. “I’m fine.”

Yet Solas was adamant. “You need to rest, lethallan.”

“Alright, just be sure to sleep too.” Chuckling, Fen’an made her way to the other bed and threw herself under the thin blanket. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we reach the end of this chapter! Comments are very much appreciated (and help me write faster *wink wink*)


	3. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'an hates Templars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> Attempted rape  
Gross Templar vocabulary and actions  
prejudice against elves  
Violence

Fen’an was still in a state between asleep and awake when she heard the voices.

“So you weren’t attacked by mages?”

“No, I was attacked by bandits and Fen’an found me a day after.” That was clearly Solas, but she wasn’t sure about the other voice, even if it sounded familiar. “She knew of this village and helped me get here.”

“That’s awfully nice of her.” The unknown man replied.

“Elves help each other, we are often preyed upon by bandits and slavers, so we try to stay together.”

Now fully awake, Fen’an sat up on the bed; her body went tense. It was one of the Templars she had seen in the forest. Her movement made him turn to look at her.

“You didn’t say your savior was a Dalish woman.” The man looked her up and down and she held back the urge to snarl at him.

“I do not see how this is an important detail.” Solas kept his calm demeanor, but Fen’an saw the slight tension on his shoulders. “What matters is that she was there to help me, after all.”

“It’s important because she could be a mage.” The Templar put a hand over his sword’s handle. “And we can’t have apostates around.”

“I can understand you, _shemlen_.” Fen’an growled.

“So I see.” The man kept his eyes on her and she did not look away from his glare. “The guards said that you didn’t arrive with a staff, although that would be too stupid, even for a rabbit.”

“If Fen’an happened to be a mage,” Solas spoke up before Fen’an could reply to the Templar’s comment. “she would have healed me, which you can see it is clearly not the case.”

The Templar huffed but nodded. “That much is true, so I’ll believe you.” He looked at Fen’an again before turning to leave. “I’ve got my eye on you both.”

“_**Cunt.**_” Fen’an hissed in elven and Solas raised an eyebrow at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What?”

“Just admiring your temper, lethallan.”

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” She rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “Do you feel good enough to keep going?

“I do, but I doubt they will let us leave right now, it is about to go dark.”

“What?!” She looked at the window and was met with the orange and purple lights of sunset. “We shouldn’t have slept so much!”

“We were both very tired, it could not be helped.” He was just too calm for her liking. Didn’t he understand how precarious their situation was with the Templars so close? She shouldn’t have slept. “Complaining will not help us now, we will have to make the best of our current situation.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, I need to think straight right now.”

“Sister Lucretia came earlier to tell us that the Revered Mother wants us to join dinner tonight.”

“Really? I thought the woman would do her best to avoid us.”

“_**I think it was a request from the Templars, but I am not sure.**_” He switched to elven, lowering his voice. “_**We should be careful while we stay here.**_”

“_**I see.**_” With a sigh, Fen’an stood up. “_**We need to leave as soon as possible.**_”

“_**We should entertain the Revered Mother **__**for the time being.**_” He accepted her help to get out of the bed, but his legs weren’t shaking as much as earlier. “_**At least while the Templars are around.**_”

“_**I promise I will try.**_” She took a deep breath and opened the door. “Will you manage to walk on your own?”

“I will.” He follows her out of the room, his pace a tad slower, but firm. “I feel much better now, I suppose the food helped.”

“Of course it did,” Fen’an snorted and rolled her eyes. “Those biscuits were shit.”

“They tasted much better before.” He just shrugged and they made their way towards the chamber where meals were held. “I suppose that age was not very kind to them.”

“You suppose?”

Solas chuckled, shaking his head. He opened the door to the dining chamber, and held it open for her; Fen’an went in and tensed as she was stared at by the four Templars. Revered Mother Claire didn’t even look up from her plate, Sister Lucretia smiled and waved and the other sister nodded at them. Solas took the seat by a Templar’s side and Fen’an sat down at his side with a relieved sigh; Solas gave her a small smile and she murmured a ‘thank you’.

“How kind of you to join us.” Mother Claire didn’t look at them, her voice cold. “I thought you would keep us waiting forever.”

“I am still recovering, Revered Mother.” Solas gave the human an apologetic smile. “I still can not walk very fast, so I ask that you forgive us for the delay.”

“You don’t look very hurt though.” A Templar pointed out, he had very thin lips and light brown hair.

“Most of my pain comes from sore muscles and healing bruises,” Solas smiled politely. “It makes walking harder than it should, but it is not life-threatening.”

Fen’an had decided to be as silent as possible when near the humans, she didn’t like them at all. She had already put a nice amount of food on her plate and started eating, avoiding eye content with the others; she did smile at Lucretia, though, the sweet girl didn’t deserve a taste of Fen’an’s foul mood. She tuned out the noise and just ate quietly. Most of the talking happened between the Templars and the women with occasional questions to Solas; if they ignored her because she was Dalish or because she had put on an ugly frown, she did not know.

Even after finishing her food, Fen’an remained seated and waited for Solas; she didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone with the others. Sister Lucretia was friendly enough to start a conversation with her and Fen’an was glad to answer all of her very curious inquiries about the Dalish. Lucretia was really curious about the Halla, she told Fen’an that she thought they were very beautiful and elegant; the Dalish elf was very happy to share some of her experiences as the daughter of the clan’s chief Halla Keeper.

“I have never seen a real Halla, just pictures in books.” Sister Lucretia murmured dreamily. “Did you ride them?”

“Not all Dalish clans breed Halla to ride, but my clan does.” Fen’an smiled, remembering the first time her parents had let her ride one. “They are not as numerous as the ones we breed for milk, however.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you actually ride them!” The Sister took Fen’an’s hand. “If you ever visit our village again, please bring one with you… I would love to see one in person!”

“If the new clan I’ll be joining breeds them, I’ll surely remember to visit you.” Fen’an squeezed her hand with a smile, a tad regretful for having to lie to Sister Lucretia, but both elves had planned good backstories for who they were supposed to be and she was to stick to it.

“Oh?” That seemed to pick her interest. “New clan?”

“Yes, I’m moving to a clan near Starkhaven so I can have my bonding ceremony.” At the Sister’s confused look, she added. “It’s similar to a wedding; I am to be married.”

“Ah! You are a _bride_!” She squealed. “This is wonderful.”

“I didn’t know you wild rabbits knew anything about marriage.” One of the Templars snickered. “I just assumed you all humped each other nonstop and made more knife-eared babies.”

“Sir Templar!” The Revered Mother hit the table with her fist. “We are in a Chantry, you will not use this language in here!”

Fen’an closed her eyes to try to control her breath; her hands were shaking with anger. She just wanted to throw a fireball at that man’s face, but that was very far from something she would be able to get away in her current predicament. She felt Solas place his hand on her knee and she looked at him, his eyes were calm and held that same kind gleam that she saw every day in the Inquisition; he gently squeezed her knee and she felt a bit of the tension ease off her shoulders.

“Sir Gregory will apologize.” The same Templar who had been in their room earlier spoke up, his cold gaze staring at the idiot that had made the comment. “Won’t you?”

The idiot, Gregory, turned bright red in a mix of anger and shame. “Of course, sir.” He sat straighter in his chair. “I’m very sorry for my language, Revered Mother.”

“I am not the one you should be apologizing to.” Mother Claire cut him off. “You have offended the poor rabbit’s honor, apologize to her.”

The Templar tensed again and his eyes, now red with anger, met Fen’an’s. He waited for a second as if expecting her to look down, but she held his gaze. “I’m sorry, _miss_.” He spat the word.

Fen’an gave him the biggest shit-eating grin. “You are forgiven.”

“Good.” The Mother stood. “And I hope this sort of attitude will not repeat itself in this Chantry.”

“Of course not, Revered Mother.” Gregory murmured, his eyes still focused on Fen’an.

Solas cleared his throat. “I am afraid I need more rest,” He stood up slowly.

Fen’an immediately stood, taking his arm with care. “Let me help you.”

“I should start to try walking on my own, my friend.”

“What if you fall again?”

“Have more faith in me.” He chuckles. “You can be quite a mother hen when you want to.”

“_**More like a mother rabbit.**_” She said in a low growl. “Well, I’ll take a walk outside, then.”

“Of course. I hope you have fun.”

Fen’an smiled at him and quickly made her way out of the Chantry. Even as the sun was going down, there was still a great lot of activity; there were children running around, merchants still presenting their products to curious costumers, and people just enjoying the day before heading home. She saw many humans, some cautious elves, a handful of dwarves and two qunari, towering over all others. For a small village in Antiva, there was quite a diverse crowd.

Fen’an noticed some of the elven children following her with wide eyes, whispering to themselves and pointing at her face. She stopped walking and smiled at the group, waving. The children giggled and waved back, rushing closer to her with their short legs. They started asking her a lot of questions in Antivan and Fen’an could barely understand what they meant; they spoke too fast for the similarities between Rivaini and Antivan actually help her.

“_Eu não entendo vocês._” She told them in Rivaini, speaking a bit louder so they could hear her over their own noise.

They all stopped talking at the same time, whispering something between themselves again before the oldest boy spoke up. “Are you Dalish, miss?”

“Well, I am.” She held back a chuckle at how the children squealed in excitement.

“That’s amazing!” The little girl stared up at Fen’an with wide black eyes. “What does your… Dalish tattoo thing means?”

“My tattoos are called Vallaslin.” She sat down on the nearby bench. “They honor the elven Gods and are a mark of adulthood.” At their confused faces, she added. “It shows that the elf is ready to be a grown-up.”

“So you are a grown-up Dalish!”

“I am.” She nodded. “My Vallaslin honors Fen’Harel.”

“Fen’Harel?” The younger boy asked. “What is he the god of?”

“Rebellion.” She wondered how to tell them the story. “He fought for the freedom of the People.”

“He freed slaves? Like Andraste?”

“A bit like Andraste, yes,” Fen’an remembered another member of the People that those children should hear about. “And like Shartan, the leader of the elven slaves who helped Andraste fight Tevinter.”

“Oh, mama told me about him!” The little girl beamed. “He was a great hero!” Looking up at Fen’an, the girl asked curiously. “Was this Fen’Harel god guy a hero too? Like Shartan and Andraste?”

Fen’an looked away from the children, searching for the Chantry and seeing only a part of its roof in the distance. “He is a hero.” She wondered if Solas saw himself as one; if his guilt allowed him to truly appreciate how he saved the people, even if the consequences of his actions caused them to fall from their glory.

“Miss, miss!” The children caught her attention again. “What did you do in your clan, miss?”

Fen’an smiled and talked about life in her clan until the children were called back home.

* * *

She was only a few steps away from the Chantry’s entrance when someone roughly grabbed her forearm, pulling her back and shoving her against the wall. Fen’an hissed, looking up to see Sir Gregory, who held her wrists tightly, pinning her against the hard surface.

“Release me at once!” She bared her teeth at him.

“What they say about you wild rabbits is true, huh?” He laughed at her, tightening his grip. “You are all little feisty things.”

“And you templars are all disgusting men that smell like horse shit.” She spat at him and felt her anger boil hotter when he just shook his head with a smirk.

“I wonder if you will keep this smart mouth after you are mounted by a real man.” His smile grows bigger when Fen’an goes still, eyes filled with fear. “Yes, I knew you would like that, you rabbits just can’t resist the weight of a man on top of you.”

That was enough to shake Fen’an out of her shocked state; she pushed her head forward, smashing the Templar’s nose with her skull. He cursed loudly and let go of her wrists, his hand now clutching his bloody nose. Fen’an snarled and pushed him down to the floor. “Fucking touch me again and I’ll bite a piece of your neck off, _shem_!”

Before Gregory could get up, she rushed inside; Fen’an ran to the small bedroom and closed the door behind her with perhaps too much strength. Solas jumped awake at the loud noise, standing up quickly to look for any possible threats. He searched the room and when he failed to find any oddities, he turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Lethallan?”Fen’an didn’t even hear him; she was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes were so full of tears that she could barely see him right in front of her. “Fen’an...” Solas’ gentle tone made her let out a sob, the first of many. “What happened, da’len?”

“Can we leave?” She managed to catch her breath enough to ask it. “I know you are tired, but--”

“Of course, da’len.” He nods and gently squeezes her shoulder. “I can ask Sister Lucretia for some food… Do you wish to stay here while I do that?”

“Can I go with you?” Fen’an felt pathetic, but Solas was the only safe harbor for her in that situation; the only person she knew. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I will never leave you alone, lethallan.” His hand went to her lower back, but not really touching. “Come with me.”

Fen’an followed him to the kitchen, glad for the feeling of his body near her. It always felt odd to feel so close to him and she tried to act less ‘intimate’, she shouldn’t be very familiar with a man she met less than a month before; but it was hard, it was so hard not to feel like nothing was different from their time together at Skyhold…

“Sister Lucretia, do you have a moment?”

His voice brought Fen’an back from her thoughts and it did to do the same to the Sister.

“Oh, mister Solas!” She squeals and places a hand over her heart. “And miss Fen’an… you scared me!” She regained her breath quickly. “How can I help?”

“Is there any food you can pack for us, right now?”

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide. “Now? You are leaving now?” She looked at Fen’an. “But why? It’s already dark...”

“I am worried about some relatives I was supposed to visit before being attacked, I would prefer to reach them as soon as possible.”

“Ah, of course!” She smiles. “And I suppose you are here to ask for some food to take with you.”

“We are.”

Lucretia was quick to move around the kitchen and grabbed a lot of items; from fruits to cookies and different types of bread. “I hope to see you two again… in better circumstances, that is.”

“So do we.” Fen’an gave the Sister her best smile, still drained from earlier. “I’m sorry we are leaving like this.”

“Don’t worry about it!” She hands them over a basked full of food. “You two have already suffered enough delays,” Her eyes went to Fen’an. “Especially you! We can’t let your groom waiting for too long!”

Oh yes, the whole ‘traveling to another clan to get married' story.

“Well, they can’t start without me.” Her joke made the Sister snort loudly.

“Ah, I’ll miss you two.” She sighed. “You are the most interesting people that have shown up here in a long while.”

“I will miss you too.” Fen’an was surprised by how true that was; she had grown used to keeping others distant, not fond of the idea of experiencing more loss. However, the world was not broken yet, so she allowed herself to let Lucretia in. “I will try to visit you whenever I can.”

“And I can’t wait for it!” The Sister accompanies them to the door and bids them goodbye, waving as they walk away.

“She is far too kind to be stuck in the same Chantry as Mother Claire.” Solas said, waving at the guard who opened the gates to let them through. “Such a sour woman has no place being in charge.”

“That’s the Chantry for you.” Fen’an sighed; she knew he was trying to distract her from what had caused her breakdown, and she was very glad for it, but talking about the Chantry wasn’t really going to help her much, so she decided to change the topic. “Did you manage to find the location of an Eluvian while you were dreaming?”

“I was able to sense one, but it is still very far, I could not pinpoint its location.” He sighed but didn’t look very disappointed. “I did feel a lot of them in Tevinter, but that is clearly not an option.”

Fen’an chuckled. “Definitely not!”

“I can search again once we move away further from the Temple.” Solas picked a berry and offered it to her. “Do you wish to eat something?”

“I don’t think I should.” She shook her head. “We need to be careful not to eat all of it too soon.”

“That is true, but I am sure that a single berry won’t be missed in the long run.” He smiled. “And It might cheer you up, lethallan.”

“Well, if you insist.” Fen’an took the small fruit from his fingers and popped it into her mouth, sighing in delight at the sweet taste. “It tastes delicious. Thank you.”

“I just hope it cheered you up.”

“It did.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I am pleased to hear that.” He didn’t say anything else.

Fen’an bit her lip. “Aren’t you going to ask what happened earlier?”

“I know you will tell me if you are comfortable with it, lethallan.” Solas gave her a smile. “I am not trying to calm you just so you can tell me what made you upset.”

“I--” She looked away. She used to tell him everything before… during the Inquisition. This Solas, however, was still a relative stranger, even if they had reached a comfortable camaraderie. “It was because of the Templar,” Fen’an just spilled it out. “he cornered me and--” She hesitated. “He tried to do _things._”

Solas stopped walking and Fen’an looked up at him with worry. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched and hands closed tightly on a fist.

“Solas?” She called his name hesitantly.

He took a deep breath and relaxed his body; Solas looked at her and there was great pain in his eyes. “I am so sorry, lethallan, I should not have left you alone.” He takes a step forward, now facing her. “I was so focused on resting and finding the Eluvian that I did not think that one of the _shemlen_ could feel like going after you.”

“It was not your fault.” Fen’an murmured, a bit distracted by the proximity. “I wasn’t expecting it either, I should have known better.”

“No, no.” Solas shakes his head, frowning. “It was not your fault, lethallan. Do not even think about blaming yourself.”

She opens her mouth but can barely gather enough strength to answer him; Fen’an felt an ache on her chest and tears escaped her eyes again. “Thank you.”

To her surprise, Solas raised his right hand, his long index finger gently moving some rebel threads of her snow-white hair away of her face, his thumb brushing the skin of her cheek. “Do not thank me, lethallan; without you, I would still be trapped inside my uthenera chamber, after all.”

“Solas...” Fen’an stared up at him, not daring to move, afraid to break the spell they were in.

Those moments with Solas, however, never lasted long. The familiar glint of sorrow crossed his eyes and the spell was gone, replaced with painful silence as they both took a step away.

“We should keep moving.” He said after clearing his throat. “We should put some distance between ourselves and the village before we rest.”

“Yes, you are right.” She just agrees, not wanting to start any sort of talk after what just happened.

And so they walked in silence. They kept to the trail that led to Treviso, from where they would go southwest to Seleny before making their way to the Green Dales, where most Antivan Dalish clans liked to wander. They would try to find a clan there, rest, gear up and then…

Well, Fen’an didn’t know.

She didn’t want to leave Solas to his own plans, searching for his orb in order to cause the Conclave all over again; Fen’an was in no mood to deal with Corypheus’ shit _twice_. The problem was that there was no real reason she could give him for them to stick together other than the truth; they were close, yes, but only out of necessity and Fen’an wasn’t stupid enough to think that he would stick around for long after he had recovered most of his strength. But she couldn’t possibly just let him leave.

They walked for a few hours, taking short rests to catch their breath, but never stopping for longer than what felt like twenty minutes. They had agreed to get as far as they could from the village before calling it a day. Solas was more insistent on keep moving than herself, and she wondered if that was because of the guilt he felt at leaving her alone earlier. It seemed like they would spend a lot of time trying to convince each other that they were not to blame for what happened.

Fen’an sighed loudly and stopped walking. “Solas, we have walked enough.” She crossed her arms. “Please, let’s rest.”

“It would be wise to put distance between ourselves and the Templars, you know that.” He turned back to look at her, coming to a stop himself. “We can never be too sure...”

“Solas.” Her firm tone made him stop talking. “I’m tired, you are tired; we have been walking for hours now.” Fen’an pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look… I know you are blaming yourself for what happened.” She walked towards him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “But just like you comforted me earlier, I must insist that you stop blaming yourself and allow yourself to _rest_.”

He looked at her for a moment before she felt him relax; Solas sighed and lowered his head, then looked up at her. “You are right, lethallan,” He gave her a tired smile. “As I have discovered you always seem to be.”

“Ha! I wish!” Fen’an felt her face heat up, feeling like a bashful teenager again. Damn him! “Being always right would have made me avoid a lot of trouble.”

“Or put you in even worse situations, I am afraid.” He looks for a good place to sit and after he does so, he puts the food basket in front of him. “We should eat as well.”

She drops down at his side, groaning at how good it felt to release the weight off her legs. “That would be nice, yeah.” Fen’an hugged her knees. “What do we have?”

“I do remember seeing Sister Lucretia pack some rather good looking cookies.” He searched for it and took two big cookies, handing her one. “I believe they were made with chocolate instead of raisins.”

Fen’an took a bite and moaned happily at the sweetness. “Welcome to Antiva!” She chuckles and takes another bite. “Antiva and Rivain do like their chocolate.”

“I am quite fond of it myself,” Solas ate his slower than her, ever so dignified. “sweets, that is.”

“So am I.” Fen’an smiled and licked her fingers, the cookie long gone. “My mother used to make Hearth cakes covered in chocolate when I was younger.” She remembered how her mother playfully slapped her father’s hand when he pretended to reach for Fen’an’s cake. “My father loved them even more than me.”

“You can ask her to make you some when you meet her again.” At that, her smile vanished, and Solas was quick to apologize. “I am very sorry-- I did not mean...”

“It’s fine.” She gave him a weak smile. “I just don’t think I’ll ever see them again.”

“You will not be returning to your clan?”

“I don’t think I will.” She hugged her knees again, looking ahead with unfocused eyes. “I don’t even think I _can_ come back.” Fen’an looked at him. “I guess you understand that… being from Elvhenan and all of that.”

He hummed. “Yes.” He closed his eyes. “Elvhenan had its problems, but it was my home… and it was _beautiful_.” Solas looked at her with a sad look in his eyes. “There will never be something like it ever again.” With a chuckle, he added, “To be sincere, I am as relieved as I am sorrowful for it.”

“Did you have a family back then?” Fen’an couldn’t hold back her question, that was one thing that had pestered her after she found out the truth about him, as simple as it was.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not all elvhen were born from other elvhen, some were spirits who took physical form.” His eyes were unfocused as he recalled the past. “I happened to be one of them.”

She blinked. “Are you serious?” He looked at her with a confused expression. “You were _a spirit_?”

“Yes, millennia ago.” Solas smiled at her wide eyes. “I ‘was born’ as a fully adult elf, so I had no family.”

“Did you ever want one?”

He looked at her, his face blank as he considered her question. “I never wished for parents, for I never had the need for them and close friends can easily be considered siblings; so I did never crave for a family.”

That was not what Fen’an actually wanted to know, so she decided to be more direct. “What about a partner? Children?”

“Ah.” A faint shade of pink covered his cheeks. “There were suitors, but I never considered any of them.”

“Why not?” _Can’t you fucking stop asking this type of question? _A part of her mind yelled at her but was quickly silenced by curiosity.

“Some were not my preferred gender and the others were...” He paused as if looking for the word. “_Vain._ They cared for my status and nothing more, so I had no desire to tie myself to any of them.”

“Ah, I get that.” Realizing her mistake, she was quick to add something believable to the statement. “Mages are dying out among the Dalish, so the prospect of having mage children and grandchildren is very appealing to some clan members.”

“Your magical talents are quite extraordinary, lethallan.” Solas told her with a small smile. “Had you been born in the times of Arlathan, many nobles would have fought for the honor of wedding you.”

Oh, she was definitely blushing; the heat was covering her entire face and down to her neck, her ears burning. “Assuming I would have been born a noble, that is.” She mumbled, clearing her throat and looking away from him.

“Your magic would have made you nobility regardless of your birth,” Solas explained. “You would have been taken in as a member of the court of one of the most powerful nobles and trained by the best masters, after a few years of serving at court, you could petition for your own lands and I do not think anyone would be able to deny you without being ostracized for standing in the way of such a promising young member of the People.”

She now stared at him again, mouth agape. Those details he gave her this time around was something she failed to learn even after she spent years researching the information she found on ruins while fighting his people. How much more did ‘her’ Solas fail to tell her?

“Well...” Fen’an hesitated, still recovering from her surprise. “That sounds better than how some people become nobles right now.”

He hummed. “Perhaps, but each noble was very different from the next, some could be as cruel as Tevinter slavers, or even worse.”

_He speaks of the Evanuris, not simple nobles. _The idea of serving at the court of one of them was both fascinating and terrifying. _Was that what happened to him?_

“The powerful are the same everywhere.” She shook her head with a sigh. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Nobles are hardly anything other than boring, lethallan.” Solas chuckles. “Trust a man with experience on the matter.”

She laughed too. “Well, I don’t think you are boring, Solas.”

“I try not to be, Fen’an.” He gave her a warm smile. “Now, I think it is best that we sleep.” He places the food basket down at his side. “I do not mind keeping watch first, I will wake you when it is your turn.”

“Fine by me.” She laid down with a thud. “Don’t take too long, I still think we should get going before sunrise.”

“Of course, lethallan.”

Fen’an fell asleep the moment she closed her eyes, opening them to see the familiar greenish color of the Fade. She stood up and looked around, searching for any demons that could have been attracted by the strong negative emotions she had been carrying; she felt a very strong presence nearby. It was not a demon, but a very old spirit. Fen’an makes her way towards where she feels the energy coming from; she arrived in a beautiful meadow she had walked by with Solas earlier, coming face-to-face with Wisdom, Solas friend.

“_**Ah, you must be Fen’an.**_” It said in ancient elven. “_**Solas**__** told me a lot about you.**_”

“_**Well…**__** I--**_” She cleared her throat. “_**Who are you, exactly?**_”

“_**I am Wisdom, an old friend of Solas.**_” It smiled and came closer to the elf. “_**I was looking for him, but he is not asleep right now.**_”

“_**No, he is keeping watch while I sleep.**_” Fen’an didn’t walk away, she knew Wisdom meant her no harm and her courage seemed to intrigue the spirit. “_**Why were you looking for him? Is there something wrong?**_”

“_**I believe I should be the one asking that.**_” The spirit frowned. “_**We were talking but he was pulled out of the Fade rather **__**suddenly.**_”

“_**Ah.**_” Fen’an looked down. “_**That might have been my fault.**_”

“_**I see.**_” It hummed. “_**You woke him.**_”

“_**Yeah.**_” She gave the spirit a weak smile. “_**Sorry about that.**_”

“_**You don’t need to apologize.**_” Wisdom smiled. “_**I just wished to know if he was well, and now I do.**_” It remained silent for a moment before speaking again. “_**You are more beautiful than I thought you were.**_”

“_**Uh...**_” Her brain suddenly stopped working, surprised by the turn the conversation took. “_**Thank you?**_”

Wisdom chuckled. “_**You do look adorable when you are all flustered.**_”

_Creators. _Her face was even hotter now and Fen’an couldn’t even look at the spirit’s face, her ears burning. _How am I supposed to look Solas in the eye after learning that he tells his greatest friend that I look _adorable _when I blush?_

“_**So…**__** uh.**_” Flustered, Fen’an tried to think of a different subject. “_**Did he ask you to help with finding an Eluvian?**_”

“_**Ah? You know about them?**_” It hummed. “_**Good, good; you can also help him, a dreamer such as you are.**_”

“_**You overestimate my abilities.**_”

“_**On the contrary, lethallan, you underestimate yourself.**_” It smiles. “_**Often.**_”

_That’s true but it didn’t have to say it to my face!_

“_**Well, I don’t know how to sense the Eluvians here in the Fade, so I don’t see how I could help him.**_” Creators, she didn’t even know _when _exactly she was, so she had absolutely no idea where they could find an Eluvian.

“_**I was about to give him news about his search before he was pulled away from the Fade.**_”

“_**Yeah, sorry for that.**_” Fen’an chuckled. “_**I’m sure you can tell him later when it’s my time to keep watch.**_”

“_**Don’t you want to know what I have discovered?**_” Wisdom asked curiously. “_**Wouldn’t it be better if both of you worked together?**_”

Fen’an considered the question for a few seconds. “_**It would.**_”

“_**I know.**_” The spirit smiled. “_**I sense an Eluvian far away from here, in the south. It is still active, but tainted.**_”

“_**Tainted? Like… by the Blight?**_” That was _very _familiar.

“_**Precisely.**_” It nodded. “_**The problem is, I have no idea how to ‘heal’ the Eluvian.**_”

“_**We will think of something.**_” Fen’an kept her calm expression, but her mind was racing. An Eluvian, tainted with the Blight, but _still active. _That meant that the Hero of Ferelden hadn’t stumbled upon it yet, which meant Fen’an had landed before 9:30. “_**It’s not like we have a choice...**_”

“_**Solas is trying to fill inactive Eluvians as well, he would prefer to use one closer to his current location.**_”

“_**That would be best, yes.**_” She thinks of how tired he looked after even a short walk. “_**A long trip wouldn’t do him very well.**_”

Wisdom smiled. “_**I am very glad that you were the one to find him when he woke up, lethallan; Solas needs someone who truly cares for him, he has never had many true friends.**_”

Fen’an opens her mouth to reply, but she suddenly felt herself being pulled away from the Fade. She was waking up. _Someone was waking her up_.

“_Fen’an!_”

She opened her eyes, staring up at a very worried Solas.

“We must move, lethallan.” He helped her get up. “The Templars are here.”

“What?” Her mind was still not fully awake, but those words were enough for her to come back to her senses. “How? Why?”

“I do not know, but we must move, now.” Solas pulled her with him, the food basket nearly forgotten, saved only by Fen’an’s quick thinking as she grabbed it in the blink of an eye.

The elves rushed through the forest, hoping to lose the Templars by using the terrain to their advantage. The Templars, however, had bows and a very good aim.

Fen’an screamed in pain as the arrow hit her shoulder, falling to her knees.

“Lethallan!” Solas crouches in front of her, his skilled fingers touch the flesh near the wound, a soft blue glow around his hand. “I will be able to heal this, do not worry. We just need to--”

“Would you look at that.” A familiar voice spoke from behind them and Fen’an froze. “The knife-ear is a mage.”

Solas looked over her shoulder, an all-familiar look of determination in his eyes. “Yes, I am, indeed, a mage. Now, why have you attacked Fen’an?”

“We actually came after her.” The leader of the group shrugged. “Gregory told us the rabid thing attacked him, so we came to put her down.”

Fen’an snapped. “Did _Sir Gregory I _tell you how he tried to force himself on me?”

Solas clenched his jaw, his blue eyes filled with the purest form of anger, an expression she had only seen once, right after Wisdom had died.

“Maker’s breath, Gregory!” Another one of the Templars barked. “I know you like your rabbits, but you should know better than go for the wild ones! They _bite_.”

“And you should know better than tell us your half-truths!” The leader sneered, making Sir Gregory recoil.

“It wasn’t in vain, though!” Gregory stuttered an armored finger pointed at Solas. “We found an apostate!”

“That much we did.” The leader scratched his stubble. “Alright boys, take the mage and chain him up; we leave the pretty rabbit back at the Chantry and the Revered Mother can set her free into the woods when she heals.” At the order, the three Templars moved closer to the two elves.

“Please, you must at least let me heal her.” Solas takes her hand in his. “I can not possibly let her bleed out.”

One of them, now at their side, yanked Solas up aggressively, pulling him by his hair; only to backhand him with a heavy-armored hand, throwing the elf back on the ground. “Don’t try to give me orders, knife-ear!”

“Solas!” Fen’an tried to go towards him, but Sir Gregory was on her first, stepping on her ankle to keep her in place. “Let go of me!”

“The mage is coming with us to the Circle, knife-ear.” Gregory scowled down at her. “A shame, really; the Circle could use a pretty face like yours, even if you are just a rabbit.”

Solas hissed in pain, and Fen’an’s focus was back on him; she watched as the Templar pulled him back up by his hair, shoving him forward. “Don’t try anything funny, mage. I’m sure you don’t want to see your friend bleed out some more.”

Fen’an’s gaze met Solas’ and she can understand his silent request for her not to react, not to use her magic and let them take him away. But she was not going to do that. _I am Dalish and the Dalish do not submit. _She raised her head and looked straight into Gregory’s eyes. “I’m not the only one who’s going to bleed today.”

She didn’t give them time to react; with her magic, Fen’an made the flora around them move; giant vines came from under the earth, making the ground shake. Gregory was the first to be hit; a vine covered in thorns collided against his side and threw him against a tree. The other yelled and pulled out their swords, charging towards her. More vines sprouted out of the earth and formed a thick barrier behind her, blocking the shemlen from reaching her with their swords.

“Seamus! Go see if Gregory is alive!” The leader yelled at the Templar beside him. “I’ll cut these plants and get to the knife-ear bitch!”

She would deal with the others later, her focus was on the Templar who had hit Solas. He was coming towards her now, his sword in hand, ready to strike.

But she was ready too.

Her left hand felt warm as bright green lightning crackling loudly. A part of her mind screamed that green lightning wasn’t normal, but Fen’an was blinded by her anger and pushed her worries away. The Templar hesitated, his eyes wide and focused on her left hand; Fen’an snarled and threw the lightning at him. It hit him square in the chest, and the smell of burnt flesh reached her nose. The Templar screamed in pain and dropped his sword on the ground. His companions yelled his name, but Fen’an didn’t care to catch it, she was already getting ready to attack him again.

“Lethallan!” Then Solas was in front of her, his face so close to hers that their noses touched. “_**Lethallan, enough! You are hurting yourself!**_”

She frowned. She was not hurting herself! She was hurting _them_. And they _deserved it._

“_**Lethallan, look at your arm,**_” Solas whispers. “_**You must stop.**_”

Fen’an looked down at her left arm and let out a shriek. The green lightning died out, but her arm still glowed with the dreadfully familiar color; as it had happened during the Exalted Council, her hand had thick green vain-like threads going up to her forearm. The sight takes her out of the frenzy she had been earlier; the smell of burnt flesh became too much, and the full pain of whatever was happening to her hit with full force.

Fen’an screamed.

“Fen’an!” Solas took her left hand in his. “You will be alright, my friend.” He used his magic to try to contain the magical reaction. “Just stay calm… _**I will not let them kill you.**_”

_I hope you are fucking right about that._ She thought before the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit happened lmao
> 
> I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! Don't forget to leave a comment, please =3


	4. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'an and Solas are taken to the Circle and it affects their fragile friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while, I know. Life has been kind of a bitch recently so I had some trouble when writing. I finally managed to finish this one! I have no idea when the next chapter is coming out since I haven't even started writing it yet, but I'll try to get it out faster than this one!
> 
> Also, if you want to find more Solavellan content written by me, consider visiting my tumblr! I have a lot of short Solavellan pieces posted there!
> 
> [@rivainsomniari](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rivainisomniari)
> 
> I'll try to add a picture of Fen'an in here to see if I can show how she looks, but I'm not really good at html so I don't know if it will work! Chack out the end notes for some pics! (hopefully)

Fen’an opened her eyes to complete darkness, her face was covered by something and when she tried to move to take it off, she found her hands tied together. She hissed and tried to force her wrists apart, but it only caused the friction of the ropes to wound her skin. “_ Merda. _”

“Lethallan?” Solas called from somewhere to her right. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and swallowed, trying to get rid of that awful taste of blood that was in her mouth. “What happened? Where are we?”

“We are inside a cage of sorts. The Templars are taking us to the Circle in Antiva City.”

Fen’an snarled and thrashed against her bindings again but to no avail. She was not getting away from this. From the _ Circle. _ As if she needed any more problems in her life.

“Fen’an, I need to ask you something,” Solas spoke up after a few minutes of complete silence.

“Go ahead.”

“Who are you?”

Her body went rigid and she was glad that their eyes were covered, otherwise, he would have noticed how affected she was by his question. What had prompted that? Why was he asking her that now?

“You know who I am.” Her voice remained firm, surprisingly. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Do not pretend to be stupid, Fen’an. I know you are not.” The hostility in his voice surprised her, she was taken aback by how quickly his worried and gentle tone changed. “The power you demonstrated is not ordinary, it is not from this world.” He paused and she heard him take a deep breath, trying to calm himself, she supposed. “Who are you? Have you been sent to spy on me?”

“What?” She hoped she had heard it wrong, she really did. Solas couldn’t possibly believe that she was some sort of spy, right?

“I felt the orb’s presence back at the temple, and again when you fought the Templars,” Getting a hold of his rising anger, Solas lowered his voice and switched to elven. “** _Be honest with me, lethallan. What did you do with the orb?_ **”

“** _I can’t fucking believe it._ ** ” Fen’an hissed at him, louder than intended, causing a Templar to yell at them to keep quiet. “ ** _After everything I have done to help you..._ **”

“** _Please, do not avoid my question._ **”

She groaned. “** _I didn’t even know you had one of those stupid Foci!_ **”

“Maker’s breath, will you knife-ears shut up?” A Templar snapped at them and there was the metallic clang of his sword. “Don’t make me go in there and bleed you a little, the Knight Commander would be very upset.”

Solas remained quiet and Fen’an opted to do the same, dragging herself further away from where she knew the other elf was. She was still tired and had no patience for the man’s shenanigans; the idea of being locked away in a Circle was already stressful enough without adding in a grumpy elven god. Fen’an closed her eyes, already sure of what she would be doing as the Templars took her to Antiva City: Sleep. It was the only thing she would be able to do, anyway.

* * *

“Move, rabbit!” Fen’an was brutally pulled from the Fade by one of the Templars as he yanked her out of the cage “Don’t try anything funny, you're surrounded by Templars now.”

Fen’an bit her lip. She would not entertain them with a reaction. The Keeper had trained her for something like this when she had been nothing but a young girl who had just discovered her magic. The Templars feel more powerful when the mage fights back and they get to hurt them. Fen’an would not fight back. Not at that moment.

“Timothy.” A different voice, one she hadn’t heard before, called from somewhere in front of her. “Is this the rabbit you spoke of in your letter?”

“Yes, Knight-Captain.” The one manhandling her spoke up, “This one needs harsher treatment, the other is mostly harmless. He doesn’t have enough mana to cause any real trouble.”

“Throw both of them in the dungeons and send Maria to deal with their wounds,” There was a pause and the next time he spoke, his voice was a few steps away. “And put the girl in one of the deep cells. We don’t want her causing any more trouble.”

“Yes, Knight-Captain.” Timothy pushed her forward. “Let’s go, rabbit. We’ve got a room just for you. Pray that the Knight Commander decides to kill you, a lot of folks in here would love a Tranquil girl with such a pretty face.”

He pushed her through corridors and down countless sets of stairs. To his credit, the Templar didn’t let her fall, even as she tripped over and over again. It grew colder as they descended and Fen’an could feel her magic being suppressed. knowing that she would be placed inside one of the worse cells they had to offer.

“Stop.” Timothy pulled her closer with an iron grip. “I’ll uncover your eyes, don’t try anything.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, simply pulling the bag away from her head; the light of the torches made Fen’an close her light-sensitive eyes. She heard him unlocking a heavy door and pulling it open before he pushed her inside. She hit the ground with a loud thud, face down.

“Someone will come to see you soon. Behave.” The Templar commanded over the noise of the door closing and being locked. “Enjoy your stay.”

Fen’an rolled to her back and sat up; her eyes were already adjusted to the low light and it helped that the cell was considerably darker than the hallway; it had been a choice made with the intent of making the prisoners uncomfortable, but Fen’an was an elf and her eyes could see in the dark much better than her human jailers. She would be fine.

The cell was very small, bordering on claustrophobic, and Fen’an could almost taste the magic suppressing energy that infested it. The Templars had probably prepared themselves for her arrival, reinforcing the dungeon’s security. Yet, even with the strong anti-magic energy pressing against her mana, she could still feel it; placated, but not weakened enough to keep Fen'an from using magic. _ The Templars don't need to know it, though. _

Fen'an would play their game; she would sit there, pretending that she couldn't use her magic and hope that good behavior would help her survive the day without being made Tranquil. If not... Well, that was a question for later. The elf laid down and put her arms under her head. It was a very bad excuse for a pillow but still more comfortable than the cold stone floor. 

She stayed silent, staring up at the ceiling, watching as the light from the torches made shapes on its surface, the shadows twisting along with the flames. It got boring after the first ten minutes. Then it got annoying when it reached the fifteen minutes mark. Half an hour left, Fen'an was already on her feet, pacing around the room. She was restless, anxious. How long would they keep her incarcerated like that? Would they starve her to compliance? To death? 

And where was Solas?

The sound of steps and voices coming from down the hallway caught her attention. She recognized the sound of heavy armor and rushed towards the wall far from the door and sat down against it. She tried to look as small and unthreatening as possible, pretending to cower and wince when her visitors opened the door. A huge, stern-looking man came in, followed by a tall and equally stern woman. The man was the Knight-Commander. The woman was a mage, and Fen'an knew enough about how the Circle's worked to know that the black robes she wore signified her rank as First Enchanter.

"Apostate," To her surprise, the First Enchanter spoke first. "We have heard quite a few things about you."

Fen'an bit back her tongue, holding back any stupid comebacks. She just nodded.

"Don't act so civilized now, rabbit." The Knight-Commander barked. "Sir Timothy and the others already told me about what you did, you are very lucky that they didn't kill you on sight, _ mage _."

"Knight-Commander Marco, please." The woman interrupted; her calm voice in contrast to the man's anger. "This woman could be useful to the Circle..."

"Yes, yes." Marco huffed in annoyance, waving his hand. "You have already told me so at least four times, Catarina." His eyes never strayed from Fen'an; always watching with a familiar coldness she had seen before. Humans always had that look when they thought they were looking at their 'inferiors'. "But we need to be sure she won't be biting any more of my men!" He scoffed. "Or any of the nobles."

_ What? _

"She won't, I assure you." The First Enchanter sounded very sure for someone who didn't even know how much Fen'an would love to bite out a piece off of a Templar's neck. "I'm sure she will get used to life in the Circle soon."

_ Ha! _

"I will trust you this time, First Enchanter."

"Have I ever disappointed you, Knight-Commander?" The woman smiled softly.

"Not yet," Marco replied, coldness present in every word. "Try not to change that, yes?"

"Of course, Knight-Commander." Catarina kept her smile up, but Fen'an could see how tense she truly was. Her eyes didn't lie as well as the rest of her body. "We should allow her to get cleaned up." She suggested after a short, uncomfortable silence. "I will get her phylactery ready and she will be able to join the other apprentices in the morning."

"Good." Marco walked away from the two women and opened the door. "I'll call Angelica to accompany both of you."

"That would be good, thank you." The First Enchanter thanked him meekly and stared at the man's back until he left the room, closing the door loudly behind him. "Listen closely, girl." Catarina turned to her, gray eyes firm, but not devoid of a warm kindness despite her harsh words. "I know you don't want to be here, and I don't want you here either. No one deserves to live freely just to be locked away in a place like this later in life, but this is where you are now. I'll do my best to help you deal with the transition, but you will need to listen to me."

"I can do that." Fen'an accepted the hand the Enchanter offered and quickly rose to her feet. "Thank you."

"You can thank me by staying out of trouble and keeping your head low." She gave a quick glimpse at the door before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I know that, right now, you are thinking about ways to escape, so I’ll just let you know right away: You _ can’t _ .” The First Enchanter hissed the last word. “Because when they catch you, _ everyone _will pay for it.”

_ I don’t plan to allow any Templar to survive, my dear. _

“Do you hear me?”

Fen’an’s eyes met the woman’s gray ones. “I do, First Enchanter.” Just as she replied to the older woman, the cell’s door opened and a female Templar came through, accompanied by a Tranquil.

The man approached them and spoke up with his emotionless tone. “First Enchanter, I have come here to take the mage’s blood for the phylactery.”

“Very well.” The Enchanter kept her gaze on Fen’an. “I’m sure she won’t cause any trouble while you collect her blood.”

“She better not.” The Templar touched the handle of her sword, her black eyes focused on the elf.

“Give me your hand, please.” Fen’an did as the man asked, flinching a little when he used a small needle to poke her finger. He collected a few drops of blood on a small vial, tucking it into a pocket in his robes after he was done. “I’ll take this to a Senior Enchanter if you excuse me.”

“Go ahead, Tom.” The Templar stepped aside and watched the Tranquil rush out of the cell. “First Enchanter, I’ll take the apostate to get cleaned now.”

“Of course.” Catarina just nodded. “I trust you are also responsible for taking her to the apprentice quarters afterward?”

“I am, First Enchanter. You can go back to your duties, the mage will be safe with me.” There was a shared look between the two women before the mage left. “Your name, what is it?” The Templar turned to look at her, offering a hand for Fen’an to stand.

She took it and pulled herself to her feet. “Fen’an.” Her finger hurt a little, but she shrugged it off. “Are you Angelica?”

“Yes.” They were both in the hallway now. “I don’t think there’s any hot water left; we have the tranquil mages heat it before the actual bathing time, but you are quite late, unfortunately.”

“It’s alright, I feel like cold water is the least that can happen to me here.” They were out of the dungeons now and the hallways had tiny windows along its wall, allowing some natural light in.

“That is true, it’s good that you know.”

“It’s good that you don’t deny it.” Fen’an couldn’t help but smile at the other woman and was pleasantly surprised when the Templar smiled back. “Can I ask you something?”

“About your friend?” Angelica raised an eyebrow and continued after the elf’s nod. “All I know is that he didn’t get the same special treatment you did, so don’t worry. I also don’t think they killed her or made him tranquil.”

Fen’an sighed in relief. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Don’t mention it.” She opened the door and let Fen’an through. “Your robes should be here already, they will probably be too big for you, but they can be adjusted later.” There was a lonely wooden tub in the middle of the room, a small cloth and bucket right beside it. “I am not allowed to turn around, unfortunately.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Fen’an reassured her softly. “Better you than that fucker Gregory.”

Angelica scowled. “He is a disgrace to the Templar Order, that one.” As she said, Angelica didn’t turn around, but her gaze didn’t focus on Fen’an as she undressed. “He makes some of the other women in the order uncomfortable, but the Knight-Commander likes the guy, so he doesn’t do anything.”

“He is disgusting.” Fen’an lowered herself on the water, hissing at the cold. “Oh, you weren’t kidding about the cold water.”

She snorted. “I wish!” Angelica’s awkward smile broadened a little. “A punishment for new recruits is to bathe in cold water for a month… That was a challenge.”

“I can imagine.” Fen’an chuckled and fell silent, concentrating on scrubbing all the dirt off her body.

Both women remained silent. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was not as hostile or tense as Fen’an had feared at first. It probably wouldn’t stay like this, but she had at least had a good bath without feeling as exposed as she imagined she would. Fen’an just hoped no male Templars were assigned to watch the female mages bathing. The towel she used to dry herself was rough, but the wonderful sensation of being clean made it worth it.

Angelica handed her the apprentice robes and Fen’an put it on quickly. It was a tad loose, but it was nothing she couldn’t fix, so it would do.

“A bit big.” Angelica watched her. “I’ll tell Geovana to see you tomorrow so she can make it fit you properly.”

“No need to bother her, I can fix it myself.”

The Templar shook her head. “I’m sure you can, but I’m afraid no one will trust you with anything sharp for a while.”

“Ah.” It made sense. “I see...”

Angelica sighed. “Come on, let me take you to the apprentice quarters.”

That last bit of their time together was filled with nothing but comfortable silence. Angelica was more at ease in her presence than at the beginning of their little ‘adventure’ together. ‘_ Being friendly always has its perks, darling!’ _ Vivienne’s voice chuckled inside her head as she remembered the Enchanter’s words. ‘ _ A kind and reliable mage goes far in life. And once you get where you want, you may be whoever you like. _’

Oh, Vivienne. Fen’an missed her.

“Here we are.” Angelica stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. “Let me just unlock it for you.” She grabbed a bunch of heavy-looking keys from her belt and used one on the door, pushing it open after putting the keys back on her belt. “Just pick one of the empty beds and go to sleep. Someone will take you to your classes tomorrow.”

Fen’an hesitated before going in. “Angelica...” Vivienne’s words were ringing in her mind. “Thank you.” She looked down, making an effort of appearing shy. “I didn’t expect to find any kindness in the Templars here.”

There was silence for half a second before the woman replied in a soft, gentle tone. “You are welcome.”

They smile at each other for a second before Fen’an hurried inside, the door is safely locked behind her. _ Ah, my first night in the prison the Chantry likes to call Circles. _If she were as optimistic as her old friend Varta, she might have seen it as a new adventure instead of a nuisance. Alas, Fen’an has always been more on the petty side.

Her elven eyes grew used to the darkness of the room quickly and she tip-toed around the many beds. All the mages in the room were young, none seemed older than fifteen. It made Fen’an feel that familiar anger she had grown used to hide during her time as Inquisitor. How many young children had been dragged away from their homes? From the arms of their parents? Thrown at the mercy of jailers that despised them? Taught to fear what they are?

_ Magic is the gift of the People. _Yet how many elves grew up hearing that their talents were a curse?

She finally found an empty bed and tucked herself under the thin blanket carefully. The bed was small for her, but there was nothing she could do but try to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Fen’an needed to think on a way to escape her new cage and she knew a spirit that could help her with that.

She closed her eyes.

* * *

The Fade was _ crowded _. She had known the Veil was thinner near the Circles, but the number of spirits hanging around surprised her. Curiosity, Learning, Purpose, and even Faith; they all left her alone, more interested in paying attention to the other dreaming mages. The demons, however, took great interest in her. Rage and Fear followed Fen’an as she made her way towards where she could feel Wisdom’s presence, giggling and murmuring mocking words that she chose to ignore. They left her be as quick as they had decided to follow her, seemingly hurt by her lack of reaction to their taunts.

Fen’an reached a calmer area and she felt Wisdom’s energy, the spirit appeared to be creating some sort of shield around that small section of the Fade. It kept the other spirits and the annoying demons away. _ Good. I don’t have the patience to deal with them right now. _ She stepped closer to the center of the barrier, knowing that Wisdom would most likely be there. And it was. Together with _ Solas _.

“** _Uthenera has made you more suspicious than ever, my friend._ **”

Ah, they were talking about her.

“** _Can you blame me, my friend?_ ** ” It was the first time Fen’an heard his voice since their argument, and he sounded even more tired than when in that cage, if that was even possible. “ ** _It is all very convenient. She was there when I woke up, alone, and the orb was gone. How do I know she is not from any of the Divine Courts? How do I know if the vallaslin marking her face is not just an attempt to taunt me?_ **”

“** _I have told you about it before, lethallin._ ** ” Wisdom’s voice was calm and Fen’an made an effort to keep her anger down, she didn’t want to make herself known yet. “ ** _That vallaslin was designed in the time of the Dales, those who choose it are only trying to honor you._ **”

“** _There is no honor in slave markings!_ **”

“** _They are not slave markings anymore, my friend._ ** ” Wisdom sighs, shaking her head. “ ** _Forget what it was and focus on what it is now._ ** ” The spirit gave her friend a kind smile. “ ** _And remember what the People can become once they thrive._ **”

Fen’an decided to make herself known after the silence Wisdom’s advice caused, stepping forward. They both looked at her and Solas’ body tensed, but the spirit only watched her with a small smile. Fen’an had the feeling that the spirit knew she had been listening.

“** _I felt you looking for me, Fen’an._ ** ” Wisdom walked past Solas and took Fen’an’s hand. “ ** _And I wanted to talk to you._ **”

“** _Well, here I am._ ** ” She let herself be dragged closer to Solas. “ ** _What did you want to talk about?_ **”

“** _My old friend here has told me about his reservations,_ ** ” The spirit let go of Fen’an and took some steps back. “ ** _I have known him for a long time and I understand his suspicion, even if I am certain they are misguided._ **”

“** _It’s good to know that someone hasn’t lost their sense._ ** ” She couldn’t help but sneer. “ ** _I have had to deal with a really ungrateful guy recently, you know?_ **”

“** _The gall of you-_ **” Solas hissed, but she interrupted him.

“** _The gall of _ ** ** _me_ ** ** _? You are the one who-_ **”

“** _That is enough!_ ** ” Wisdom’s voice cut through her rant and Fen’an felt her mouth closing against her will. “ ** _Do I need to keep you quiet or will you both act like adults?_ ** ” The spirit stared them down and only let go of them once they had nodded. “ ** _Good. Now, will you two hear me?_ **”

“** _Yeah._ **”

“** _Of course._ **”

“** _Wonderful!_ ** ” Wisdom smiled. “ ** _Now, I am certain you want to leave the Circle as soon as possible, yes?_ ** ” The spirit didn’t wait for a reply. “ ** _There is not much I can do to help other than offering my advice, so you will have to stop this little feud and work together._ **”

_ Easier said than done. _ Fen’an looked at Solas from the corner of her eye; she couldn’t read his face, but she had the sensation that he was as unhappy as her. _ Solas is a stubborn idiot, and I’m not any better. _

“** _I know you are not on the best of terms, but I’m sure you can put aside your little quarrel until you are free again._ ** ” Wisdom looked at them expectantly. “ ** _Can’t you?_ **”

Fen’an bit her lip and looked at Solas, who was looking at her. They stared at each other while Wisdom waited, ready to stop another petty tantrum if needed.

“** _I am willing to try._ ** ” Fen’an sighed and looked away from the ancient elf. “ ** _The sooner we leave this place, the better, and I will accept any help I can get._ **”

“** _Good!_ ** ” Wisdom turned her gaze to Solas. “ ** _And you, lethallin?_ **”

Solas stares at his friend for a few seconds and Fen’an could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was an over-thinker through and through, only making a decision after very careful consideration. Solas had the mind of a general and he had centuries of experience on his shoulders.

“** _It is the wisest strategy._ ** ” He finally said after thinking for a long moment. “ ** _I agree on putting our issues aside until we are free of this place._ **”

“** _That is all I can ask of you._ ** ” The spirit nodded once. “ ** _But you must promise me that you will keep your word._ ** ” There was concern on Wisdom’s voice. “ ** _Without each other, you will fail._ ** ” She hesitated. “ ** _Without each other, you will die._ **”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
by @leaphia
> 
>   
by @jeannedarcprice
> 
> Again, please consider visiting my Tumblr XD [@rivainsomniari](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rivainisomniari)


	5. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'an is given a taste of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of sexual assault

Waking up surrounded by curious children wasn’t as bad as it might have looked to someone passing by. It certainly had scared Fen’an when she first opened her eyes and saw all those pair of eyes staring at her.

“ Hello.” That was all she managed to say, still a bit in shock.

The children murmured something to themselves, but didn’t take their eyes off her. Fen’an sat up and gave them the best smile she could manage after waking up. One of the elves, definitely the most brave of the group, stepped closer, her brown eyes nearly invisible against the black of her sclera.

“ You are Dalish, right?” The girl asked with a raised eyebrow.

“ Yes, I am.” Fen’an chuckled. “The Vallaslin gave me away, I presume.”

“ Well, no one has tattoos like that around here.” She looked at the white markings curiously. “What god is that supposed to be?”

“ My Vallaslin honors Fen’Harel, the rebel.” Fen’an couldn’t help but trace the white lines of the tattoo as the fond memories slowly moved to the front of her mind. “He has always been my most fierce protector.”

“ Isn’t Fen’Harel the giant wolf one?” Another kid asked from behind the girl.

“ Yes, he is.” Fen’an smiled. “But don’t let that fool you, he is the most gentle of the Creators.”

The girl was about to say something when the harsh voice of a Templar interrupted her. “Come on, girls. Everyone is supposed to get to the dinning hall as soon as they wake up. You all know the rules.” The girls all murmured apologies and moved to leave, Fen’an stood to follow them, but the Templar stopped her. “I’ll take you there myself, mage.”

“ Why?” The question left her lips before she could think it through.

“ Orders from the Knight-Commander, don’t question it.” He pushed her forward when she walked past him. “You’ll live longer if you don’t ask so many questions.”

_ Good to know. _

The dinning hall was crowded, all the apprentices and mages divided in two tables. The Templar told her to go sit at the apprentices’ table by the left and Fen’an found Solas quickly, his height making him tower over the much younger apprentices. She took the seat on his left.

“ Hey.”

“ Hello, Fen’an.” He nodded and took a bite off his bread. “It took you a while to get here.”

“ Some curious girls held me back.” Fen’an smiled. “They were curious about me.” She bit her lip, wondering if she should try to tease him a little. “And Fen’Harel.”

“ Oh?” To his credit, he didn’t sound all that curious, but Fen’an knew him well and could see that he was interested in what she was saying. “Why would they ask you about the Dread Wolf?”

She shrugged. “Because of my Vallaslin, I think.” She held back a chuckle. “I told them he was fluffy and loved cuddles.”

Solas chocked on his drink. “And why would you tell them that?”

“ I felt like it.” Fen’an grinned. “I’m sure Fen’Harel is a good boy.” She held back laughter. “Fluffy.”

Solas rolled his eyes, but Fen’an saw a hint of amusement in them. There was a painful pull in her heart, the memories of happier times pushing against the carefully built wall inside her mind. Fen’an took a deep breath, reinforcing them slowly, but surely. She couldn’t fall for him, not again.  _ Solas is off-limits! _

“ Lethallan, you have never been in a Circle before, I presume?”

Fen’an nodded. “I was lucky enough to avoid them for most of my life. I guess my luck ran out.”

“ Do not admit defeat so soon, Fen’an.” Solas raised his hand as if he wished to touch her shoulder, but changed his mind, probably aware that the Templars wouldn’t like that very much. “Wisdom believes we can escape, after all.”

“ You trust her a lot, don’t you?” She couldn’t help but smile. “Are you friends since--” She hesitated, looking for a world to replace the name of Elvhenan’s greatest city. “the old days?”

“ Yes. She is my oldest friend.” He smiled fondly. “She has stayed by my side through the worst moments of my life and I am very grateful for it. Not all friends are that kind.”

“ That’s true.” Fen’an hummed thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the room. There were some pair of eyes on them, some curious, some angry and some anxious. “Solas, maybe we should call your friend Silea while we are here.” She discreetly pointed to two Templars who seemed quite interested in them. “Our jailers might feel like eavesdropping one day.”

His eyes focused on the two Templars in question. “A wise suggestion, lethallan.”

“ Well, I’m always full of those.”

Solas chuckled, shaking his head. “And full of pride, it seems.”

_ Look who’s talking.  _ Feeling a bit uneasy, Fen’an decided to change the topic of the conversation. “What do you think will happen now?”

“ My guess is that they will send us to our Harrowing.” He said with in his usual calm manner, not caring if Fen’an thought that information was worth panicking.

“ So soon?” Fen’an didn’t like that at all. “We have just arrived!”

“ While asleep, I had the ‘honor’ of witnessing some of them,” There was a small shift in his face, mostly in the eyebrows, as Solas filled with bitterness. He always did that when talking about something he disliked. “from what I gathered, apostates are forced to go through them right away.”

“ Great.” She groaned and took one last bite from the rather tasteless bread that was being served. “As if we needed another issue to worry about.”

“ On the contrary, lethallan.” His expression softened and there was a hint of smugness in his eyes. “By doing that, they will grant us an advantage.” His statement was met with a raised eyebrow, so he continued. “If we ‘prove’ that we are able to resist demons--”

“ The Templars will back off from us a little,” Fen’an caught up on his train of thought and ended up interrupting him. “once they realize we are not a threat in the aspect.”

“ Exactly.” Solas gave her a small smile, nodding. “The sooner, the better.”

Fen’an cleared her throat and looked away from him, a bit embarrassed after she felt all the butterflies flying inside of her because of a single smile. “Well… then now we just need to keep our eyes out for any clues that they will be dragging us to a journey into the Fade in the near future.”

“ I have the feeling one of us might be taken right now.” Solas discreetly gestured to three Templars that were walking their way. “Let us see if I am right.”

The trio approached them, causing some of the younger mages to grow nervous, and stopped right behind Solas.

“ You, the male.” The Templar poked Solas’ shoulder. “You are Solas, right? The apostate.”

“ I am, indeed, ‘Solas the apostate’.” He smiled. “How can I help you?”

“ The Knight-Commander wants to see you.” The Templar grabbed the elf’s arm and pulled him up roughly. “Come with us.”

“ Of course.” Solas kept his voice down, a polite smile on his lips. Forced, but not to those who didn’t know him well. “I will see you later, Fen’an.”

“ Yeah.” It’s all she is able to say as she watched Solas being dragged away by the trio of Templars. “ ** _Good luck, old man._ ** ”

He didn’t return for the remaining of the breakfast. By the time all the Templars barked that time for eating was over, Fen’an was convinced that Solas had been taken to his Harrowing. That much confirmed his predictions and, at least, Fen’an would be somewhat prepared when her time came. Place together with the younger apprentices, Fen’an was taken to one of the Circle’s study rooms. A Chantry Mother was waiting there, a blackboard filled with pieces from the Chant of Light written in it.

Fen’an cursed to herself. They were going to force her to learn the  _ fucking Chant of Light _ .

“ Welcome, welcome.” The Mother said with a smile. “It’s good to see you all again.” Her eyes found Fen’an and lingered on her vallaslin. “As well as the new faces. What is your name, dear?”

“ Fen’an.” She grumbled, more for her own sake than anything else. The Templars were watching closely, after all.

“ I’m glad to have you here with us, Fen’an.” The Mother’s smile widened. “I am Mother Valentina. I must say that it’s always nice to see more elves joining us under the Maker’s light.”

She bit back the urge to tell the woman to fuck off. “Of course,  _ Mother. _ ”

“ You can sit with Illario over there.” She points to a tall blond elf sitting by himself, his long hair resting loosely over his shoulder. “He is one of our most devout mages, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to help you catch up.”

“ It would be an honor.” He replied with an elegant Antivan accent, similar to Josephine’s noble tone. Was he one of the mages usually sent to court? “I can share my notes with you after this lesson, if you wish.”

“ Thanks.” Fen’an sat down on the chair next to the man. “I don’t care much for the Chant of Light, however.” She said that last part in a whisper.

“ Neither do I.” Illario shrugged. “But pretending I do keeps the Mother happy and makes some of the most devout Templars hate you a little less.” He stared at her for a second before focusing on the blackboard again. “Pay attention. The Mother likes to ask questions to the new students.”

* * *

The class was finished in a hour. A very, very long hour.  _ Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. They are sinners, who have given their love to false gods.  _ That had been directed at her, Fen’an was sure. She didn’t really give a shit.

“ Illario.” Fen’an went after him, jumping out of that room as fast as she could.

“ Are you going to follow me around like a lost puppy just because I gave you a piece of advice?” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, his dark-brown eyes nearly invisible against the black of his sclera. “Don’t you have something else to do?”

“ Not really, no.” She scowled. “Are you always such a dipshit?”

“ Not really, no.” Illario tried to hold back a small smile. “What can I do for you, Fen’an?”

“ I’m curious about you, really.” She kept following him. She also had no idea where they were going. “Do you really go to those Chant stuff just to keep the Chantry Mother happy? Seems excessive.”

“ No amount of Templar sympathy is ‘excessive’.” He replied quickly. “You are new here, but you’ll learn how to survive in here soon enough.”

“ If they can keep me here long enough.” Fen’an murmured to herself, but Illarion heard her.”

“ Ah, you are one of those who think they can escape.” He turned to look at her. “I recommend that you give up on your hope for freedom, it will be easier if you do it right away.” Illario gently put his hand on her shoulder. “That type of mage has cruel fates. Tranquility, death--” He hesitated for half a second. “Or passed around the Templars until they learn to keep their heads down and stop complaining.”

She tensed, a sudden wave of dread rendering speechless. Fen’an had heard about some of the many atrocities that happened in some Circles, but even after being captured, she hadn’t given much thought to the possibility that she was a possible victim. Templar’s prey.

“ There it is.” The man’s soft whisper got her out of her panicked state. “Fear.” Illario gave her a smile, too broad and too sweet to be genuine. “Hold onto it, my dear, it will keep you alive.”

_ Alive. Alive. ‘Fear kept me alive until I noticed it didn’t. _ ’ The calming voice of Klaus came forward from the box of memories from her time as Inquisitor. ‘ _ I survived, but was barely living. Fear doesn’t keep you alive, it sucks life out of you. _ ’. Surana was a wise man, indeed, for his words had nothing but truth in them. Once again, Fen’an was hit with the reality of how lucky she had been to have been born in Rivain,  _ free. _

The world was spinning around her and she suddenly realized she wasn’t breathing. She tried to suck in more air, but it was like something blocked her lungs.  _ Fear. It was fear. _ It crawled its way inside of her and blurred the outside world. Like when she had broken one of her mother’s necklaces when she was five. Like when she woke up chained up and surrounded by humans with no memory of how she had gotten there.  _ When the Veil came down after Solas kissed me for the last time. _

“ Fen’an!” Someone called out to her. “Fen’an, you need to breathe.” The person grabbed her arm and the cool feeling of iron identified them as a Templar. “Fen’an, calm down. It’s me, Angelica.”

_ Angelica.  _ She relaxed instantly, a voice deep in her mind yelling at her for doing so. She was still a Templar, even if she was a decent person. ‘ _ There it is.’  _ Illario’s voice rang in her head, mocking her. ‘ _ Fear.’ _ .

“Fen’an--”

“I hear you!” She blurted out. “I’m fine.” Fen’an closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. Only then did she notice that Illario was gone, he had probably fled to avoid being seen by Angelica. “I was just panicking.”

“ _ Just panicking _ ?” The human stared at her in disbelief. “Fen’an, you were barely standing...”

“Well, I’m fine now.” She straightened her back and pulled her arm out of Angelica’s hold.

“Are you sure?” Angelica looked her up and down, searching for something external that could have caused her ill. “Maybe I should take you to a healer.”

“We’ll only waste his time. I was just feeling a bit of.” Fen’an shook her head and smiled at the human. “Nothing noteworthy.”

Angelica stood there, staring in silence for a couple of seconds. Fen’an could almost hear the gears turning in the woman’s head. The Templar opened her mouth, hesitating a bit. “Is it because of your friend?” She paused, frowning. “Solas? That’s his name, right?”

‘ _ Not really. _ ’ She thought. ‘ _ He has better chances of surviving this place than I do. _ ’

But then it hit her. Solas  _ liked _ spirits. What if he tried to befriend the demon from his Harrowing and got killed for it? That man was absurdly stubborn and Fen’an was sure he could pull some shit like that if he felt like it.  _ Shit. _

“Yeah.” She said, now  _ actually  _ worried about him. “They took him during breakfast and I haven’t seen him since.”

“He might be with the First Enchanter--”

“They took him for his Harrowing.” Fen’an interrupted her. “And I know you know it.”

Angelica sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fen’an...”

“Look, I know you can’t tell me much.” Fen’an added quickly. “But I’m worried, alright? Your people took him back then and he’s not back yet!”

“I was not in his Harrowing--”

“So it  _ was  _ his Harrowing!” She squealed, blushing instantly at the sound she made. “Just...” Fen’an took a breath, then took another, calming herself down. “Is he still alive?”

“I don’t know.” Angelica admitted it in a low voice. “I can ask, or look for him on the mages’ level.” She said in a gentle manner. “If he lives, he won’t be here with the apprentices.”

“Thank you.” Fen’an breathed out the words and a genuine smile formed on her face. “It means a lot to me.” Now with a good mood, she felt like teasing the Templar. “I didn’t expect to find a Templar who’s a decent individual.”

Angelica snorted. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She looked at the elf for a few seconds, as if deciding on something. “Fen’an, if you would like, I could arrange for you to stay in the library today. The work is not very hard and it’s fairly stress-free.”

“That sounds good, actually.” She replied, raising an eyebrow. “But don’t I have classes or something?”

“Not until your Harrowing.” Angelica shrugged. “You are much older than the other apprentices and has previous magical training that was, most definitely, not taught with the Chantry laws taken in consideration.”

“You don’t trust me enough to do magic until you know I’m not s threat.”

“That’s basically it, yes.” Angelica shrugged it off. “Let me take you to the library, just follow me.”

They made their way through the corridors and Fen’an noticed how none of the Templars standing ground gave her a second glance. It was like Angelica’s presence made her invisible. She was a mage accompanying a Templar, a mage ‘under control’. A shield as much as it was a threat. She could use it, that invisibility that came with being around Angelica.

“Angelica, how big is this library?” Fen’an stopped to look out the lonely small window of that long hallway. “I enjoy reading, so I’ll probably spend some time in there.”

“This one is for apprentices, so it’s not that big.” She explained while waiting for Fen’an to be done enjoying the rare view of the outside. “I fear all the books here in the Circle are academical, though.”

“No fun allowed, uh?” Fen’an turned away from the window.

“It’s not that bad!” She pointed out after they resumed their ‘journey’. “You’ll find something to do soon enough, I’m sure.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged. “Are there any more libraries?”

“Just one more, it’s for mages and enchanters.” Angelica gave her a small smile. “I promise to take you there after your Harrowing.”

“Good to know  _ someone _ has faith in me!” Fen’an couldn’t help it but laugh.

“You have avoided possession so far,” She told her after a soft chuckle. “I just assumed you can protect yourself just fine.”

“Then why put me through a Harrowing at all?” The Chantry hated and feared mages, that was why, but Fen’an supposed that asking wouldn’t hurt.

“Not all of my companions think the same thing.” Angelica sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, she looked ashamed. “They let their own feelings about magic cloud their judgment. How could a hedge mage have survived long outside of a Circle if they didn’t know to avoid possession?”

“Calm down there, Angelica.” Fen’an replied in a joking way, she had felt some tension in the Templar’s words. “That’s quite the controversial opinion.”

“I know,” She groaned and closed her eyes to take a deep breath. “the Knight-Commander has already talked to me about that. But it’s not like I can just stop believing in it.”

“And you shouldn’t.” Fen’an touched her armored arm. “Having your own beliefs is good, and if you think there’s something wrong with how the Templar order works, you should try to change it.”

There was a something in Angelica’s eyes, something that Fen’an couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“Thank you.” Those two words were said in a quiet, rushed way, as if they were sharing a secret. “It’s hard to just watch all the wrong things the order does and not having anyone to talk about it.”

Fen’an gave the other woman a smile of her own. “You can always talk to me, if you like.”

Angelica nodded and cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “Come on,” She resumed walking. “Let me take you to the library.”

Fen’an followed the Templar, her mind growing restless with the information she had gained in that short conversation. She needed to talk to Solas.

* * *

**  
  
**

Her trip to the library was uneventful. The person in charge of it was a tranquil elven man with one of the deepest voices Fen’an had ever heard, he instructed her to put back books the apprentices left around in the library’s desk, and explained how everything was organized in the shelves. As a book enthusiast, Fen’an found that task relaxing. She loved the feeling of running her fingers along the leather covers and the smell of old paper.

Angelica didn’t return, but the librarian handed Fen’an a small piece of paper with a message written in a very elegant handwriting:

_ Your friend is fine. Alive and not tranquil. - A _

That was all Fen’an needed to go on with her day without that feeling of dread holding her heart in a death grip. With her fear for Solas’ well-being gone, she was able to properly enjoy her day. She put all the books back in their places, swiped the desks, dust off the shelves and put more books back after a group of apprentices had used a bunch of them for some research on mana reserves.

She only left when the librarian sent her on her way with strict instructions to go straight to bed. Luckily, Fen’an remembered the way well enough to only take a couple of minutes and get no more than a scowl for the Templar waiting by the door. All the other girls were already in bed or getting ready for it, so Fen’an quickly changed into the plain white robes she had been given to sleep in, and jumped under the thin covers of her bed.

Once the Templar had counted all of the mage girls, he left and locked the door, leaving the room in complete darkness. Fen’an closed her eyes and urged herself to sleep. She needed to talk to Solas, tell him what she had discovered while he was away and listen to any ideas he might have, but mostly, she wanted to see how ‘alright’ he was. He was alive, yes, but did any Templar hurt him before or after his Harrowing? Was he feeling well after being forced into the Fade to fight a spirit/demon the Circle had summoned? Fen’an knew his feelings about the matter and how it could affect him.

‘ _ I need him calm and rational if I want to leave this place. I don’t really care about him anymore’  _ She told herself, yet she didn’t believe her own words. She remembered how she claimed to everyone that asked that she no longer had feelings for the man who called himself Fen’Harel, but at that moment, laying on the bed of Antiva’s Circle, Fen’an wondered if she had ever stopped loving him.

** When, a few minutes later, Templars unlocked the door, rushed inside the room, and roughly pulled her out of bed, she didn’t resist.  _ ‘They are not killing me,’  _ She told herself.  _ ‘they would have done that in the forest if they really wanted to.’  _ Fen’an held back a smile.  _ ‘I guess I’ll see Solas tomorrow.’ _  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS AAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> Hey... how are you guys doing? 
> 
> This chapter took a while, I know, but it has been a bit hard to survive in this chaotic sick word. 
> 
> Anyway, I want to let you guys know that I'll be placing this story under a HIATUS for a while. Writing a chapter and posting it right after has been a bit stressful so I have decided to take some time to myself and work on finishing Act 1 and post it while I work on Act2!
> 
> You won't be left in the dark, so don't worry! I'll always try to give updates about how the writing is going on my DA Tumblr blog: @rivainisomniari.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! What demon do you think will be waiting for Fen'an in her Harrowing? And which one do you think Solas had to face?


	6. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 2 months of not writing because my laptop broke, I'm back! Yay(?)  
I finished this chapter a few days ago and chapter6 is already being written, I don't know when I'll post again, but I'll try not to take so long this time around :/  
Thank you for waiting <3

The Templars roughly dragged her out of the girl’s room, but their hold softened when they realized she wasn’t resisting. One of the men seemed incredibly confused at her lack of movement, yet they still dragged her forward and shoved a bag over her head. That made her frown, why would they do something like that? Were they taking her outside? To some secret location where the Harrowing would take place? Fen’an had never heard about a Harrowing being made  _ outside  _ of a Circle. 

They took her up a set of stairs, and then another one, and another. How many stairs were in that stupid Circle? Were they taking her to the roof to throw her out of the tower or something?

Gods, she hoped not.

She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the urge to question the Templars, it would probably piss them off, and that was not something smart to do when being at their mercy.

Fen’an was dragged around for what felt like an eternity. She heard many doors being opened and closed and nearly tripped along the countless sets of stairs she was forced to face while completely blind. She had expected the Harrowing to be a very unpleasant experience but  _ Creators _ ! She would end up full of bruises tomorrow.

Their little merry group came to a stop, and Fen’an heard the sound of keys and a door being unlocked. A  _ heavy _ door. It opened loudly and slower than the others, she heard the Templar in front of her make a breathy noise due to the effort. ‘ _ This is the Harrowing chamber _ ’ She assumed. ‘ _ Locked away far from any possible casualties. _ ’

It was smart, she had to admit. Even if Harrowings weren’t exactly the sanest of activities. 

The room they walked in was as big as the dining hall if how her steps echoed in the room were any indication. Fen’an was pushed forward for a couple more steps before someone pulled the bag off her head. She winced and immediately shut her eyes to shield them from the sudden influx of light. When she was finally able to take a look at her surroundings, she found herself in a gigantic room, surrounded by Templars and face-to-face with the First Enchanter, the Knight-Commander by her side.

“Do you know why you are here?” The Enchanter spoke up.

“I assume it’s for my Harrowing,” Fen’an eyed all the Templars suspiciously. “but I have never been through one before, so I wouldn’t know.”

“You are here for your Harrowing, yes.” Catarina nodded. “Do you wish to proceed with it?”

In truth, Fen’an knew she didn’t have a choice in the matter. The only other option was Tranquility, and she would rather die than be Tranquil. And yet, even if she chose the Harrowing, there was no guarantee that she would even survive it if the tension she felt from the Templars surrounding her were any indication. 

“It’s not like I have a choice, is it?” The elf was unable to keep her bitterness to herself. “You will kill me otherwise.” Her eyes moved to stare at the Knight-Commander. “Like the  _ barbarians _ you are.”

The reaction was instant. The Templars around her hissed various insults at her, some even raised their swords, their eyes moving from her to the Knight-Commander, waiting for an order to come. Sir Marco, to Fen’an’s surprise, seemed rather calm compared to his subordinates; his posture was a bit stiff and his hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, but the man was in control of his emotions. 

“Control that tongue of yours,” He said, his voice low and threatening. “before it gets you in trouble.”

“So I’m not in trouble already?” Fen’an and her  _ stupid fucking mouth _ . “Good to know!”

“That’s enough!” The First Enchanter raised her voice, her eyes were more stern than Fen’an had ever seen them. “Do you wish to take part in the Harrowing or not?”

The elf focused her attention on the older mage and noticed how anxious the woman looked. Catarina cared for her, it seemed, in her own way. Anders had told her once that most First Enchanters tended to look older than they actually were due to all the worrying over the possibility of the Templars simply deciding to kill them all. It was a cruel existence, for sure. Fen’an decided to swallow her bitterness, just this one time so that Catarina could have an easier time while surrounded by her jailors and possible killers. 

“I do.” Those two words were said in a soft tone, obedient.

“Very well.” The Enchanters’ voice was still stern, she had a perfect mask in place to appease the Knight-Commander. “Marco, are you and your men ready?”

“We are.” His cold eyes met Fen’an’s. “You must know, mage, that this is your most important test in this Circle. If you fail, you die. Take too long, and we  _ will _ cut you down, I’ll not have abominations on my tower. Do you understand me?”

“Loud and clear.”  _ Fucking barbarians. _

“Good.” Marco turned to the Templar standing behind him and took a bowl from her hands. 

It was lyrium.

Fen’an groaned. “Do I  _ really  _ have to take lyrium?” She looked at the blue liquid. “It tastes like shit.”

There were some muffled chuckles, but the Knight-Commander certainly didn’t look very pleased. A few steps behind him, the First Enchanter shook her head.

“I’m  _ this close  _ to cutting off your tongue,  _ knife-ear _ !” The insult was meant to hurt, to insinuate that she was some dirty thing that he would rather get rid of, not because she was a mage, but because she was an elf. “You’re going to drink this and stay fucking quiet. No complaints.”

She nodded and accepted the bowl with unsteady hands, she  _ hated  _ lyrium with all her heart. Back in Rivain, with her clan, she had never needed to use it. Lyrium was a luxury and hardly necessary to clan Dirthanaris’ daily life. They were a big clan, the only one in the kingdom that didn’t live constantly on ships, mostly staying in their haven hidden in the deep Rivaini forest, only visiting smaller settlements and avoiding the Andrastian capital of Dairsmuid. Lyrium was as unnecessary as it was hard to obtain. 

She took a sip and it tasted as bad as she remembered. One of the Templars barked at her to drink all of it already, the Knight-Commander’s only reaction was a grunt. Whatever that meant. Not very interested in being ran through with a sword, she complied, trying her best not to choke as the liquid went down her throat, leaving a burning sensation behind.

Fen’an didn’t feel the bowl slipping from her grasp, and her mind barely acknowledged the sound of it hitting the ground and breaking in dozens of tiny pieces. Her vision blurred and there was a sudden urge to puke, but she held it back, she needed the Lyrium in her body if she wanted to just be done with the Harrowing.

Her vision went black for a couple of seconds and as her sight slowly came back to her, Fen’an saw herself in a very familiar-looking segment of the Fade. It reminded her of Adamant, a bit too much for her liking; all humid and greenish… Fen’an never really understood why Solas had been so excited to be there. 

“Alright,” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “just focus on getting this over with and you’ll be fine.” 

Then, the elf looked around. She tried to look for any signs of the demon’s presence or anything that could confirm her suspicions on which type of demon it was.  _ Fear _ . It made sense, in a twisted way. 

_ ‘Fear.’  _ She heard Illario’s voice, a mocking whisper in the back of her mind.  _ ‘Hold onto it, my dear, it will keep you alive.’ _

“Yeah, it’s fear.”

“Talking to yourself, Fen’an?”

She let out a loud squeal, turning around so fast that her long hair hit her in the face, some strands got into her mouth and she tried to spit them out but to no avail. Fen’an grabbed the rebellious lock of white hair and pulled it back, finally looking at who had spooked her.

“Solas?”

“Fen’an.” His lips curled up in amusement. 

He looked way too chipper for someone  _ this  _ close to getting punched by a very angry Dalish elf. She sighed and shook her head, taking a moment to compose herself. To his credit, Solas remained silent, patiently waiting for her to address him again.

“What are you doing here?” Fen’an raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Were you not the one who sent your Templar friend to check on my well-being?” Solas approached her, his hands behind his back. He stopped just a couple of steps away from Fen’an. “I hope she was able to inform you that I am alive and well.”

“I can see that now.” She chuckled and looked at her feet. “But she sent me a note, yes.” She smiled. “I’m glad you survived your Harrowing, by the way. I--” She hesitated. “I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you too, Fen’an.” Solas told her, with his bright blue eyes staring directly into hers. “That is why I am here, I wish to assist you with your Harrowing.”

“Oh.” A warm feeling bloomed inside her and she could feel her cheeks heating up. “That’s very kind of you!” The words came out louder than she had intended them to.  _ Fuck _ . It wasn’t time to act like a fool. 

“I was incredibly unfair to you when we were being brought here,” He said softly. “I would do well to work on making up to you.”

“Solas,” Fen’an shook her head. “You know I have already left that behind us.”

“Still,” The ancient elf seemed conflicted, and it reminded her of when he had asked for time to think about the possibility of a relationship with her. “it was unworthy of me, and I cannot find words to explain how sorry I am.”

“And I forgive you.” She gently grabbed his arm, giving it a squeeze. “We are in this together, Solas. Until the end.”

They stared at each other with a familiar intensity. It reminded her of the conversation they had shared in her balcony, how he had looked at her back then, after their near-death experience in Adamant. After Solas had to face those words on the gravestone.

_ Dying alone. _

He was terrified of it, yet so willing to march towards his own lonely end. The old fool wouldn’t even have  _ her  _ at his side, as much as Fen’an wanted to join him. ‘ _ Ma ghilana vhenan. _ ’ She had meant it back then, with all her heart. Would she mean it again, if Solas ever decided to go through the same route? 

_ ‘Yes.’  _ A voice from deep inside her mind whispered, its tone wicked. 

Gods, she would, and it scared her. 

“Thank you, Fen’an.” Solas’ soft voice interrupted her musings. His eyes focused on hers, full of warmth. “It is hard for me to express how much this means to me.” Then, he added. “Our friendship, that is.”

“Of course.”  _ Friendship,  _ of course. She was projecting her own feelings on him, again. 

Hold on.  _ Feelings?  _ Fen’an didn’t  _ feel  _ anything for him. She really didn’t. Not anymore.

Right?

“We must get going.” Her thoughts were interrupted again. “You must not take too long to complete the Harrowing.”

_ Fuck. the Harrowing! _

“Yes, you are right.” Clearing her throat, she took a step back from him. “I don’t fancy being run through with a sword if I’m being honest.”

“Then I suggest we get going.” He walked to her side and placed his hand on her lower back. “Do you know which demon they summoned?”

“Fear.” Fen’an was sure, it was all too familiar.

“You sound certain.” Solas raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you encountered a Fear demon before?”

“Only once,” She admitted, not seeing any harm in telling him so. “a Nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” There was a hint of awe in his voice, and it made Fen’an grow a bit warm. “That is impressive, a Nightmare demon is extremely powerful.”

“I didn’t defeat it alone, you know?” She chuckled as she remembered Sera’s panic in the Fade. “I don’t think I would have been able to if I were on my own.”

“Do not be so harsh on yourself, Fen’an.” Solas smiled. “It is impressive, even if you had help.”

_ Does he want me to blush?  _ Fen’an thought to herself and lowered her head to look at her feet. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,  _ vhenan _ .”

She froze.

“What?” She asked, her voice shaky and so low she thought he hadn’t heard her.

“I said ‘you are welcome’, Fen’an.” Solas repeated himself. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, don’t worry.” She must have heard it wrong, Fen’an and  _ vhenan  _ sounded similar, after all. There was no reason for her to think the man had called her ‘my heart’. “Let’s go find that stupid demon.”

Solas simply chuckled and nodded, mirth clear in his eyes. The pair pressed forward and ventured deeper into the demon’s territory. The path they walked on got narrower as they went on, there were gravestones along the way, all with fears written on them.  _ The dark. The cells under the tower. The Harrowing. Sir Kevin’s ‘affections’. Demons. Knight-Commander Marco. Lord Antonio.  _ They were endless and it made Fen’an feel like vomiting.

“ _ Look who it is. _ ” A distorted voice spoke up from the void. “ _ The Circle has sent me a fine meal. _ ”

Fen’an scoffed and the sound elicited a chuckle from the demon.

“ _ What’s wrong? _ ” It mocked her. “ _ Is the sweet wolf’s heart as proud as her lover? _ ”

She stopped walking, her body going stiff. At her side, Solas tensed, his face blank but his eyes full of caution. 

“ _ Oh? Did I struck a nerve? _ ” It laughed, the sound so loud it made the very ground shake. “ _ Sweet wolf’s heart, bride of Fen’Harel! Don’t be shy now… _ ” 

“Shut up!” She hissed.

“ _ I did! I touched the wound, didn’t I? _ ” Fear groaned as if the confrontation gave it pleasure. “ _ Growl at me as much as you want, wolf’s heart, it won’t change the truth. _ ”

“Fen’an--” The demon interrupted Solas, laughing.

“ _ Vhenan! Vhenan! _ ” It kept cackling. “ _ She heard it, you know? She noticed! Of course she did. But did the sweet Fen’an know why you love saying her name? My heart, my heart, wolf’s heart! Fen’an! _ ”

“That is enough, demon.” Ah, she wished she could sound as collected as Solas while under pressure. “Your lies have no place here.”

“ _ Lies? You accuse  _ ** _me _ ** _ of lying? _ ” 

Why did she feel like Solas had said the wrong thing?

“ _ I’m not lying. _ ” Fear hissed. “ _ You are!  _ ** _She _ ** _ is! _ ” It laughed again. “ _ Lying and hiding! Oh! Sweet wolf’s heart, bride of Fen’Harel, have you belonged to the deceiver for so long that lies have become second nature to you?” _

That was bad.  _ Really  _ bad. Solas wasn’t dumb, not at all, and Fen’an knew he would grow suspicious and start connecting the dots soon. She needed to--

_ Hold up. _

What did the demon say? ‘She noticed’? 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Solas  _ had  _ called her  _ vhenan _ earlier! Fen’an hadn’t misheard it, after all. Butterflies went wild in her chest and she hated herself for it, she wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all, for fuck’s sake!  _ ‘But who is the demon truly taunting? _ ’ She thought, her eyes now focused on the man next to her. ‘ _ Both of us, most likely. It’s almost like I’m not its preferred target. _ ’

She looked up at Solas, his face contorted in clear confusion and a note of displeasure. He noticed her staring and gave her a tentative smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The situation was getting to them both.

“We should continue.” Fen’an managed to whisper. Solas only nodded.

I little less energetic than before, the pair of elves resumed walking. The path continued for what felt like an eternity, it grew narrower and narrower as it went, the demon laughing and taunting them all the way. Then, Fen’an saw that the corridor came to an abrupt end, opening up to what it seemed like a cave.

“Solas--”

“I see it.” He was right behind her, his breathing labored. “I cannot wait to get out of this ridiculous hallway.”

“Let’s move, then.” Fen’an was as eager as him, if not more. It was her life that was in danger, after all. “Do you think the demon will be there? I don’t have that much time…”

“I can hear you, you know?” Fear spoke before Solas could reply, the characteristic cheerfulness gone from its voice. “Why are you two ignoring me? Avoiding the truth won’t change it.”

“Fuck off!” Fen’an growled.

“Don’t be so aggressive now,” It seemed satisfied with the reaction it got. “I’m only exposing your lies.”

“I’m no liar.” She murmured to herself.

“Only by omission, right?” The demon chuckled. “Ah! Aren’t you perfect for each other? I’m so excited!”

“Do not pay attention to its baiting, Fen’an.” Solas said from behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “We are almost there.”

“ _ Are you? _ ” Fear asked when they stepped into the huge open space. “ _ You are no closer to defeating me than you were when this all started. _ ”

Fen’an looked around, she wanted to analyze the place they would probably face the demon in. It wasn’t as big as she had thought, but it was a welcome freedom from the tight space they had been in before. There was a problem, however.

The demon was nowhere in sight.

“Solas,” She called and he looked at her. “it’s not here.”

“It is here,” He shook his head. “we are simply not seeing it.” Solas walked to the middle of the cave-like room. “We must find a way to make the demon reveal itself.” 

“How?” Fen’an felt disgusting, she was all sweaty and uncomfortable as she grew more and more nervous with how long the Harrowing was taking. “I don’t think I have much time left.”

“It said it wanted to expose our lies.” Solas sighed and paused, he was unsure about what to do. “So I must assume that to defeat it, we have to be honest with each other.” He looked her in the eyes. “No more secrets, neither mine nor yours.”

_ Shit.  _

“ _ She won’t do it! _ ” The demon cackled. “ _ Too proud! Too cautious, just like her old wolf! _ ”

“Shut the fuck up!” Fen’an hissed to the emptiness of the cave. “You know  _ nothing  _ about me!”

“Fen’an!” Solas yelled her name and grabbed her shoulders. “Focus! We do not have much time before the Templars decide to kill you!.”

He was right, she realized. She didn’t want him to be, she wanted to try to find another way to get rid of Fear, but she had near to no time. Fen’an bit her lip. That was it, the moment of truth. She had been avoiding it with all her might and pretended to avoid the truth for much longer.

And yet…

“Fen’an.” 

She finally met his eyes. “You first.”

It was Solas’ time to look nervous. He let go of her and took a step back, the demon mocked them, but its voice was hard to hear now that her attention was fully on the man in front of her. Would he do it? Solas had chickened out of telling her the truth at Crestwood, sure, but back then her life hadn’t been in danger. He  _ cared  _ for her, right? He had called her  _ vhenan _ . He certainly wouldn’t allow her to be cut down by a Templar. 

Right?

“Before I tell you, I must make sure that you understand why I did not do it before.” He hesitated. “At first, I simply did not trust you, but as we spent more time together and I began to see you as a companion, as a  _ friend _ ,” Solas approached her again, his eyes focused on hers. From the corner of her eyes, Fen’an noticed the small movement of his hand. Did he… wish to touch her? 

“Solas--” 

“Please,” He interrupted her and he did touch her then, his long fingers resting on her arm, just a touch above her elbow. Her breath hitched. “Allow me to finish, before I lose whatever courage I managed to gather in my chest.” He waited, continuing only after she gave him a shaky nod. His hand remained on her elbow. “I was  _ elated  _ to be just Solas once more, to be just a noble from Arlathan that had escaped its doom. To be  _ just  _ Solas again,” He swallowed and looked down at his feet, the hand holding her arm tightening. “with  _ you _ .” His blue eyes moved up to stare into hers and she fought not to lose herself in that sea of blue. “It was bliss.”

There was a pregnant silence between them, and for a moment Fen’an forgot she was in the middle of her Harrowing. Overwhelmed, her hand rose and grabbed at the sleeve of his robes, clutching tightly to prevent him from pulling his touch away. Solas' gaze flicked to her fingers for half a second, more conflicted than ever.

“What I need to tell you might push you away from me forever,” He whispered in such a low voice that Fen’an had to get closer to hear him, their faces now so close that she could count the freckles on his face. “but it is a risk I am willing to take, even if you never trust me again.”

‘ _ He’s gonna do it. _ ’ Fen’an thought and her mind was going into overdrive. ‘ _ Creators, he’s doing it. _ ’

“The truth,” Solas took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hesitating.

“Yes?” She urged him to continue.

“I am Fen’Harel.”

Fear hissed, a myriad of colorful curses leaving its mouth. Fen’an gasped, she was unsure if she should trust her ears or not. For a moment, she had expected another speech about the true origins of the Vallaslin, but there he was, just  _ telling  _ her he was the Dread Wolf, defying all of her expectations. 

“Fen’an--” Solas said her name, taking her silence for something worse than what it truly was. “I--”

“I know.” She interrupted him, swallowing nervously at the curious look he gave her. “I already knew you are Fen’Harel.

His eyes widened.

“ _ No! _ ” Fear growled and the cave shook around them. “ _ Leave! Leave now! _ ”

Fen’an felt herself being pushed out of the demon's domain, straight back to the waking world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are safe and healthy!   
Life has been hard here in Brazil, but I'm confident my family and I will be fine!  
Aaaaand the truth is out! I wonder how Solas will react when he sees Fen'an again...  
Please let me know what you think of this update XD. I worked really hard on it!


	7. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She kissed him and Solas didn’t hesitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Sexual Harassment. Implied forced prostitution.
> 
> Oh, this new chapter came quickly! I have been quite inspired to write recently! I finished my 10k words goal for June and have now entered my 15k words July goal XD. Pray for me.
> 
> Again, thank you all for you lovely comments in the last chapter, all your love made me write this as fast as I could! So enjoy this 7k chapter, y'all.

She jerks up, awake, and  _ fucking  _ exhausted. She coughed, her body shaking violently, and the Templars were on her in the blink of an eye, their swords raised. 

“For fuck’s sake!” Fen’an looked up at them, her teeth bared. “I’m not an abomination, you dipshits!”

They all looked at Knight-Commander Marco, who waved them off, his face twisted in a mix of disappointment and surprise. The First Enchanter was stiff as a board, but her eyes held a glint of pride. 

“Congratulations, Fen’an of Antiva Circle,” Catarina spoke up. “You have passed you Harrowing and now you are a Mage of this Circle, come forward to claim your staff and your new robes.”

“Thank you.” The elf took the simple staff and her new change of clothes. “I suppose I can’t go back to the apprentice’s quarters anymore.”

“Of course not.” The Knight-Commander scoffed. “First Enchanter Catarina will take you to your new rooms.” He then stared at her in silence for an entire minute. “Congratulations.”

Unable to say anything, Fen’an just nodded.

“Very well,” Catarina clasped her hands together. “Please, follow me.”

All too happy to walk away from the room full of Templars, Fen’an rushed after the older woman. The First Enchanter moved with surprising elegance for someone walking so fast, and it made Fen’an remember Josephine running around trying to get everything in order at Skyhold for some visiting nobles. 

“Now that we are not under the intense scrutiny of our dear friend Marco,” Catarina spoke without looking at her. “I must say that I was afraid that you wouldn’t make it. You took your sweet time.”

“The demon was persistent.” She shrugged.

“Most of them are.” Then, the Enchanter continued. “Now that you are a full Mage, you will be granted the privilege of having your own room. Normally, you would be sharing it with someone else, but the Knight-Commander believes it is best if you remain alone.”

“Why?” Fen’an asked with a raised eyebrow. “I thought he would love to have another set of eyes on me.”

“So did I.” The older woman hummed. “Marco, however, fear that you may ‘steer young mages from the Maker’s light’ if we gave you the opportunity.”

Fen’an scoffed.

“Is that supposed to mean you  _ wouldn’t  _ try to convert other mages?” There was a discreet smile pulling at the corners of Catarina’s mouth.

“You talk as if I care enough about your Maker to even talk about him of my own volition.” It was the elf’s snide remark.

“Touché.”

After that, they both kept their mouths shut and Fen’an followed the Enchanter without really paying attention to where they were going. Her mind was elsewhere, on Solas. The demon had pushed her away from the Fade when she spilled her own truth instead of facing her, Fen’an shouldn’t have expected anything else from  _ Fear _ , but she had, anyway. Like the fool she was.

‘ _ Is Solas still waiting for me in the Fade? _ ’ She wondered. ‘ _ Desperate for answers, just as I was when he left me at Crestwood? _ ’

The two women reached a wooden door guarded by a Templar, the Enchanter nodded and the Templar unlocked the door for them to pass. Inside, there were many rooms with heavy curtains instead of doors. The Mages’ rooms, of course. ‘ _ At least these grant us some privacy. _ ’ 

“This one is yours.” Catarina stopped in front of one of the curtains and pulled them out of the way. “We will send someone tomorrow so that you can have more robes made for you.” She stepped aside so Fen’an could go inside. “And don’t worry about any  _ unwanted attention  _ while in your room, only a handful of Templars are allowed in and they are carefully chosen.”

“By who?” Fen’an couldn’t help but ask.

“Me.” Despite her firm tone, The Enchanter smiled. “I know this is hard for you, but the Circle is your home now, could you try to make an effort to maintain the peace?”

The  _ gall  _ of that woman!

“As long as the others do the same.” It was her reply. “Just don’t expect me to roll over and become a pious believer in your Maker.”

“Fine.” Catarina sighed. “If you are going to be difficult, at least do it away from any of the Templars, they won’t like it.”

“I’ll be careful, I  _ promise _ .” Fen’an was sure she didn’t sound very genuine. “Can I go to sleep now?” 

“Of course.” She stepped out of the bedroom. “Have a good night.” With that, Catarina left, closing the curtain behind her.

Alone, Fen’an took her time to walk around the room. The bed was just a bit bigger than the one she had slept in the apprentices’ rooms, it was a nice upgrade, to be sure. There was a desk and by its side, a small, empty bookshelf, did that mean she could have her own books? Or maybe that was just so she had somewhere to store the library books while they were with her… 

What did mages even do while stuck inside all the time? Avoid Templars and gossip all day? Fen’an had seen some people reading, but was that  _ all  _ they could do with the nearly unending free time? Creators, she might lose her mind. 

“Let’s just go back to sleep.” She said to herself, freezing a second later.

_ Oh. Fuck. _

“Solas is in the Fade.” She groaned but got out of her robes anyway. ‘ _ There has to be a way for me to avoid him, right? _ ’

Then, she remembered.

“The Well…” Fen’an murmured as she buried herself under the blankets, she closed her eyes and searched for that familiar presence in her magic. ‘ _ Can you help me avoid him tonight? _ ’

The answer came immediately:  _ Yes. _

Reassured, Fen’an allowed herself to fall asleep.

* * *

Her eyes opened at the sound of a door being open.

“Come on now, Ladies.” Someone spoke from the hallway. “Breakfast will be served in a few minutes, I don’t want to have anyone missin’ it.” 

Fen’an groaned and got up, she made her bed without much care and got dressed. She pulled the curtains open and stepped outside, the woman who had woken her up was a Templar, a different one from the one that had opened the door for her the previous night, she had very curly red hair and a bright, charming smile. 

“Ah!” She smiled when she noticed Fen’an. “You are the new girl, aye?” She offered her hand. “I’m Willa!” 

“Fen’an.” They shook hands. “And yes, I’m new here.”

“You are not as mean as the lads make you sound,” The redhead said. “I should have known Angelica wasn’t lyin’.”

“She told you about me?” Surprised, Fen’an frowned. 

“Everyone is a tad curious about you.” Willa placed an armored hand at Fen’an’s lower back, gently guiding her towards the door. “Some more than others… Just lettin’ you know, lass.” She gave her a rather serious look. “If you get my meaning.”

“I do.” Yikes. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them at bay.”

“Ah, lass!” Willa laughed. “I knew I would like you!” 

Fen’an smiled. “I might like you as well, in time.”

“It’s all I can ask for.” With a pat on the back, Willa stepped away. “I need to get the other girls goin’, I’ll see you later, Fen’an.” 

The elf only nodded, she then made her way to the dining hall. She ignored how some of the others stared at her, not unused to such attention. When Fen’an crossed the door into the hall, her eyes met Solas’ and she froze for half a second. She hadn’t thought about the fact that she would see him again by morning, of course, she didn’t. She also had no plans about how to tell him the rest of the story behind her simple “I know.”

‘ _ Well, I can’t avoid him for much longer anyway. _ ’ She went straight to him and sat down on the empty seat by his left side. Now close to him, Fen’an noticed how tense he was, his body stiff and brows furrowed.  _ Fuck _ .

“Solas--” She closed her mouth, she didn’t know what to say, if she was being honest with herself.

“First,” He said, his eyes focused on his plate. “We must eat, then we talk, Lethallan.”

She just nodded and filled her plate we some food. Silence was their only companion during the meal, the air around them so thick with tension that the other mages seemed to have noticed it and kept to themselves despite their urge to chat with the newest addition to their boring lives. 

Solas finished eating first and Fen’an was still half-way through her plate, her nervousness making it hard for her to find appetite. He waited for her, which only made her feel rather self-conscious, but she ate all of her food. 

“ ** _Solas, I’m sorry--_ ** ” She started speaking, deciding for having that talk in elven.

“ ** _Not here._ ** ” He finally looked at her. “ ** _We should continue in a more private place, where the Templars cannot threaten us for not speaking their language._ ** ”

She nodded. “ ** _We shouldn’t leave together._ ** ”

“Of course.” He switched back to common. “I will see you later, lethallan.  ** _Library_ ** . ”

“See you later, Solas.” After he stood and left, Fen’an waited a few minutes, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She needed some good liquid courage and she detested alcohol. ‘ _ Not that there is any around. _ ’ With a snort, she drank the coffee and stood up. 

None of the Templars guarding the hall paid her much mind this time around and she wondered if word of her successful Harrowing had already reached all of them. Well, the sudden freedom from hostile glances all the time was  _ very _ welcome. Fen’an had to ask one of the other mages where the library was but was soon on her way towards it with slow steps and her heart beating painfully against her chest.

She would need to explain  _ everything  _ to Solas, to its last detail. At that moment, Fen’an understood why it had taken the man so long to  _ try  _ to tell her the truth, and even when he had gathered the courage to do so, he had failed to hold onto it, choosing an easy way out, giving her a different truth than the one she needed to know. Fen’an only had one story she could tell, and she refused to make up a lie to escape the uncomfortable conversation they would be having.

The library on the Mage’s floor was bigger than the one the apprentices were allowed in and there were already some people in there, filling their days with books, she could respect that. Fen’an found Solas hidden away in a corner, his fingers brushing the spines of old books about translating ancient elven, he held one in his other hand, which he put it back on its place once he noticed her presence. 

“Their translations of ancient elven are dreadful.” There’s a hint of humor in his voice. “The book I was holding had hilarious mistakes, besides lacking the nuance of elven when translating it.”

“What did you expect? It’s Chantry approved!” She joked and both elves chuckled before silence fell over them again. 

“You knew.” Solas murmured, his eyes still focused on the books. “ ** _How long?_ ** ”

‘ _ The time has come, it seems. _ ’ She thought to herself and sighed. “ ** _It’s hard to explain._ ** ”

“ ** _We have time._ ** ” He replied.

“ ** _Well,_ ** ” Fen’an licked her lips. “ ** _I knew who you were when I found you in the uthenera chamber._ ** ”

“ ** _If you knew it since we met, why pretend otherwise?_ ** ”

“ ** _No, you misunderstand._ ** ” She shook her head and looked for the best way to explain it to him. “ ** _I already knew when I found you, but not when we met._ ** ” Solas frowned and opened his mouth. “ ** _Please, let me finish._ ** ” He nodded. “ ** _I only found out a few years after we met--will meet._ ** ”

“ ** _Fen’an…_ ** ”

“ ** _I’m not finished!_ ** ” She hissed and Solas stared at her in shock. “ ** _You asked so now you will listen, Dread Wolf._ ** ” Did she overreact? Maybe, but she was beyond caring. “ ** _I first met you after the explosion of the Conclave in 9:40, but only learned the truth when you told it to me, on the same day you told me your plan of destroying the Veil._ ** ” 

“ ** _You are not making any sense--_ ** ”

“ ** _Time travel, Solas!_ ** ” Fen’an wished they were having that talk in the Fade so that she could just  _ show  _ him. “ ** _I was holding your stupid orb in the future and then I woke up here!_ ** ”

“ ** _You had the orb?_ ** ” He asked immediately. 

_ For fuck’s sake. _

“ ** _That’s all you took from this conversation? Really?_ ** ” Creators, she wanted to strangle him.

“ ** _No, of course not._ ** ” Solas shook his head. “ ** _It just makes sense now._ ** ” Fen’an felt his touch on her hand and she let him hold it. “ ** _Why the magic you used when the Templars attacked us felt so familiar._ ** ”

“ ** _Because it’s the orb’s._ ** ” She said.

“ ** _Yes and no._ ** ” He traces the lines of her left palm with his fingers. “ ** _It is similar yet unique._ ** ”

“ ** _Hard to explain?_ ** ” Fen’an gave him a small smile.

“ ** _Very much so._ ** ” The man released her hand. “ ** _Forgive me if I find all of this hard to believe, Fen’an but it sounds outlandish._ ** ”

“ ** _I know._ ** ” She sighed. “ ** _I could try to show you everything in the Fade tonight._ ** ”

“ ** _You could have done so yesterday._ ** ” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“ ** _Yes, sorry about that._ ** ” Fen’an groaned. “ ** _I just… wasn’t feeling well after our adventure with Fear._ ** ”

It was Solas’ turn to sigh and his face filled with guilt. “ ** _Forgive me, Fen’an. Once more I neglected to consider how you were feeling. As much as we both own explanations to each other, there should be no pressure._ ** ” 

“ ** _To be honest, I feel like I have more explaining to do than you, Solas._ ** ” She snorted. “ ** _Maybe we--_ ** ”

“You shouldn’t speak elven.” A voice called from behind them. “The Templars distrust us elves enough as it is.”

“Illario.” Solas stared at the blond elf, his face blank. “How may we be of assistance?”

“I came here to do some research on elven legends about the Fade.” He said. “Perhaps the help of two individuals with such knowledge of the ancient language could be of use.” His gaze moved to Fen’an. “And congratulations on passing your Harrowing, my friend.” 

“Thank you.” The words felt a bit bitter in her mouth, she hadn’t quite gotten over their little chat the other day. “Let’s hope the Templars get off me for a while.”

“If you keep that attitude, I doubt it.” Illario gave her a smile and showed them both a book. “This book was found in the Dales, it’s written in elven, but I’m afraid I’m not very good with languages.”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Fen’an took the book, her anger rising at the mention of the Dalish homeland. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

“If my presence is such a bother, then I shall leave.” He turned his back to them. “Just don’t ignore the advice of mages that have survived years in the place, fellow elves. It’s unwise.”

“You know him?” Fen’an asked after Illario left.

“Yes, we share the same room.” Solas was looking at the cover of the book she had been given. “He is a rather unusual individual, sometimes pleasant--”

“And other times a complete asshole.” She groaned and passed him the book. “Sounds like Illario, alright.” Fen’an sighed. “He left quite an impression on me when we first met.”

“It surprises me that he would be interested in Dalish legends about the Fade,” He frowned. “For someone so worried about pleasing the Templars, it would be only rational that he would be distancing himself from the ‘elven heresy’.”

“Maybe he only wants to make it look like we are the heretic ones so he can snitch us to the Templars.” She suggested, more joking than not.

Solas snorted. “You are very suspicious for one so young, Fen’an.”

“I had to be,” She shrugged. “I guess it’s hard to get rid of some habits.”

“That much is true.” Solas murmured. “May I ask why you had to be so cautious?”

“It’s--” She hesitated. “It will be easier to explain in the Fade.”

“I see.” He nodded.

“I’m sorry, Solas.” Fen’an sighed. “I know this talk hasn’t been exactly helpful in clarifying anything.”

“There is no need for an apology, Fen’an.” He shook his head. “I have the feeling I will have some explaining to do myself.”

Then, Fen’an remembered the slip of his tongue in the Fade. ‘ _ Vhenan _ ’, he had called her, like he used to do in Skyhold. She had heard it correctly, the demon itself had confirmed it to her, but could she trust its words? Did she dare ask Solas if he had said it or not? Would he deny it?

‘ _ Only one way to find out. _ ’

“Why did you call me ‘ _ vhenan _ ’?” Fen’an asked, her eyes on him.

Solas tensed and refused to meet her eyes. She could almost hear how the gears in his head were turning as if he searched for some excuse. Solas never liked lying outright, he preferred to hold back information or change the subject, but she was sure there was no way he could do any of that with the question she had asked.

“Because I am a fool.” His voice failed. “A fool enamored with the feeling of loving and being loved back.” He looked at her. “Forgive me for assuming my infatuation would be welcome, I should have had better control of my thoughts. I understand if--”

She kissed him and Solas didn’t hesitate. 

It wasn’t like the sloppy first kiss in the Fade, nor the sweet, sorrowful one they had shared when he took her left arm; it was  _ desperate.  _ For Fen’an, it was the fateful reunion she used to dream of when the pain of his disappearance was still fresh in her mind. Her hands clutched at the fabric of his robes and Solas tangled his fingers in her hair, his other hand pulling her closer with a roughness she would have never imagined him capable of.

“We shouldn’t--” He tried to say, pulling away, but Fen’an followed and pressed their lips together again. “not here--” Again. “ _ Vhenan. _ ” He groaned against her lips. “ _ Fen’an _ .”

“Solas.” She whispered and tried to pull him for another kiss, but he has already buried his face on the crook of her neck. The man took a deep breath, taking in her scent. ‘ _ Like a hungry wolf. _ ’ She chuckled, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “ ** _My old wolf._ ** ”

He laughed at that. “My heart mocks me.”

She planted a kiss on his jaw, smiling when he sighed. “It might sound odd, but I have missed you.” 

He hummed and gently pushed her away so he could look at her face. His index finger traced the white lines of her vallaslin, following the patterns as if drawing them. 

“You must hate it.” Fen’an teased him. 

“I do,” He frowned. “yet I do not. I never had slaves, so this design did not exist in Arlathan.” His finger followed one of the lines that went down her neck, and Fen’an shivered, closing her eyes. “So it means the Dalish  _ created it _ . I find it odd that your people would worship The Dread Wolf in any sort of way.”

“We are your people too.” She poked him on the ribs. “Don’t make me regret the kiss, Fen’Harel.”

“Which one?” He playfully raised an eyebrow.

She snorted. “That’s it, I’m regretting all of them.”

“Then allow me to give you another regret to the list.” He bent down and kissed her again. “Now, I suggest we stop before someone walks in on us. Again.”

“Alright.” Fen’an nodded and stepped back. “But I’m not happy about it.” With a playful hint on her voice, she pointed a finger at him.

“Neither am I,  _ vhenan _ .” Solas smiled. “I should take a look at this book Illario was kind enough to force upon us. Will I see you again before tonight?”

“I sure hope so.” It’s her reply, and she meant it. “I have to meet the First Enchanter today, but I’ll try to make some time for you, Solas.”

“I will wait anxiously, Fen’an.” With another small smile, he went to one of the desks.

The woman snorted and shook her head before making her way out of the library. She didn’t remember where exactly she should wait for Catarina, but Fen’an assumed her room was the first place someone would look for her.

\---------------------------------------------------

“Why do I need so many different robes?” Fen’an scowled as she tried her damn best not to tell everyone to shove a cactus up their asses. “It’s ridiculous. I’m a mage, not an actress.”

“And as a Mage of Antiva City’s Circle,” The First Enchanter replied. “you are expected to attend certain events from the nobility.” She gave the elf a stern look. “It helps to maintain the Circle working on more than ‘adequate’ conditions.”

“And why would you want  _ me _ to go?” Fen’an raised her eyebrow. “I’ll probably just offend someone.”

“We’ll work on that, don’t worry.”She waved her hand dismissively. “Just focus on looking your best for now.” 

“I look my best when I wear Dalish clothing but go off, I guess.” Fen’an grinned when she noticed the other mage’s barely contained smile as she measured the elf. “Your robes will have to suffice.”

“You ought to be less antagonistic, Fen’an.” Catarina seemed to be running out of patience. “I know you don’t like the idea of being here, but you must come to terms with your new life,  _ sooner _ than later.”

“Whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes. “Forgive me for not crying out of joy right now.”

The Enchanter sighed. “You are going to be killed because of that tongue of yours.” She eyed the elf sternly. “How did someone with such lousy control over her own mouth survive this long?”

“Don’t you worry, First Enchanter!” Fen’an smirked. “All of my insults are deliberate.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Catarina didn’t need to know. “I just  _ really  _ hate the Circle. And the Templars.  _ And _ the Chantry--”

“That’s enough!” The older woman hissed. “I get it, you are a bitter little girl, upset over the elves’ lost glory. It’s not my fault, so keep your venom to yourself.”

Before Fen’an could react, Catarina left. She scoffed, feeling the beginning of a headache banging against her forehead. She was  _ tired  _ of those fucking  _ shemlen _ and their idiotic ideas about magic. ‘ _ And their even stupider ideas about what we elves are really mad about. _ ’ 

“I’m sorry about her, she’s real mean when she wants to.” The girl working on her robes said in a quiet tone. “I wish I could talk back like that, though.”

“You shouldn’t,” Fen’an spoke, her voice soft. “I  _ do  _ get in quite an amount of trouble because of it.”

“Still,” She continued. “You’re  _ so _ brave!”

“You are brave too, you have survived in the Circle, after all.” The elf offered a smile.

“I wouldn’t say it takes bravery to survive in this place.” It was the reply, and Fen’an didn’t know what to say. “For whatever is worth, I hope you find a way to flee.”

“Thank you--”

“Alice.” The girl smiled.

“Thank you, Alice.” Fen’an squeezed her shoulder. “And stay safe.”

“I will.” She stood. “We’ll need to do this a few more times so I can get the measurements right, I’ll let you know a day in advance.”

Both women said their goodbyes and Fen’an waited for Alice to disappear behind the curtain before she stopped smiling, suddenly looking more tired than ever. She threw herself on her bed and sighed at the pain coming from her back, why did her back always hurt when she was stressed? Fen’an needed a spa day… She snorted, remembering Vivienne. The elf missed her Divine friend.

She remembered the story Vivienne had told her, about how she met Bastien. Fen’an wondered if the Enchanter hadn’t embellished the story due to how in love she had been at the time, the elf was one of the few people that knew how much of a romantic Madame de Fer truly was, so she knew it was possible her mentor had misremembered somethings.

‘ _ What if one of them decides to take an interest in me? _ ’ The thought made her shudder. ‘ _ Would they force me to accept their “affection”?’ _

_ _ They could certainly try.

‘ _ I shouldn’t worry about it, not now. _ ’ She rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘ _ Need to focus on finding a way to leave this place…’ _

Fen’an groaned and stood up, she had no time for naps, she needed to plan and later, in the Fade, she could ask the Rebel God himself for any ideas. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, she felt as weightless as she used to at the beginning of their relationship ‘back’ in the future, free and positive about the future. With no more secrets holding them back, Fen’an hoped they wouldn’t end up on opposite sides again.

Some would say it was wishful thinking, but she would dare hope. For him. 

It was worth it. 

‘ _ Alright. _ ’ She decided, trying to motivate herself. ‘ _ Time to gather some intel on this place. _ ’

Fen’an left her room and went for a walk. She walked slower whenever she went past one of the small windows, she tried to get a hold of the surrounding terrain around the Circle tower. To her surprise, she saw Antiva City in the distance, farther away than she had imagined.

The gears in her mind kept spinning as an idea slowly formed. 

Perhaps going to some noble’s party wasn't a bad idea, after all.

She just needed some information about how it all worked, and Fen’an knew someone who might be able to tell her more.

* * *

“They’re  _ already _ planning on sending you to entertain the shemlen?” Illario asked her, his eyes wide. “What is the First Enchanter thinking? You’re still half-feral!”

“Excuse me?” Fen’an scowled at the man. “ _ Feral? _ ”

“No offense intended.” He only shrugged. 

She rolled her eyes. “Just answer my question, Illario. Please.”

“Nobles like to pretend they are special, unique.” The blond elf said dismissively. “They are are identical, and very much boring. Most are easy to predict. If you want to keep them away, just do as you have been doing so far! A scowl here, a growl there…” He smirks. “Just remember to make some pretty lights with your fingers so that they don’t accuse you of being a bore.”

“Just like that?” She doubted it.

“This is not Orlais, Fen’an.” Illario chuckled. “No one will expect you to be a spymaster. Just  _ entertain _ some snotty humans, it’s easy.”

“How many mages are sent to those parties?” Fen’an asked.

“It depends on the number of guests.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “The likeness of you and Solas going together is very slim, you know?”

Her face grew hot. “That’s not--”

“You do know  _ why _ they are sending you, right?” He interrupted. “Why, even with your temper, they want to parade you around the Antivan high society?”

She knew. She had thought about it.

“You do.” Illario nodded, noticing the look on her face. “You are smart, Fen’an of the Dalish. You’ll find a way to take your man with you.” He paused. “Just don’t get yourself killed over it, alright?”

“I’ll certainly try.” She managed a smile. “Will I be seeing you in one of those parties?”

“Of course!” He scoffed. “I’m popular among the nobility, some old dowager  _ really _ loves my hair.”

“That--” Sounded weird, she wanted to say.

“Not like that.” Illario shook his head. “She tried to convince me to sell it to her so she could make herself a wig.” He shrugged. “Lovely old woman.”

Fen’an really didn’t understand that man, why did he feel like being cold and unapproachable just to joke with her a second later? 

“Well?” The elf asked.

Oh shit, he had asked something and she hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Sorry, I got lost in thought.” She admitted. “Can you repeat whatever you said?”

“I wanted to know if you and your flat-ear friend have started working on the book I need help with.” He said in that unkind tone of his.

“Don’t call him that,” Fen’an grunted at his switch of mood. Why was he like that? 

“Why?” Illario asked. “Isn’t it what you Dalish like to call us?”

“Only  _ idiotic _ Dalish elves call city elves that.” She snaps at him. “And while you are idiotic and a complete  _ asshole _ , I don’t see you as a flat-ear.” She sneers. “Just as a pain in my ass.”

He smiled, exposing his incredibly white teeth. “That’s why I like you, Fen’an of the Dalish.”

_ What an odd fucking man.  _

“Whatever you say, Illario. Whatever you say.” The Dalish woman rolled her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go back to ignoring you.”

He turned his back to her and waved his hand in goodbye, not saying another word. She didn’t know if she should feel relieved or upset.

“By the way,” He called out. “Angelica was looking for you.”

_ Oh? _

“Do you know where she is?”

“No, I’m not her babysitter.” He said.

“You such a  _ fucking _ asshole, Illario.” Fen’an groaned.

“Just look for her, woman! The Circle is not  _ that _ big!”

“Fuck  _ off _ .” She hissed, but couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Pray that I don’t see you again today, or you might not see another day.”

“I’m an elf living in a Circle,” He replied, still not looking at her. “Your threats don’t scare me.”

Ok, maybe he wasn’t  _ that _ bad. 

Glad that he couldn’t see the small smile gracing her lips, Fen’an walked away. Despite Illario’s statement, Fen’an had quite a bit of ground to cover if she wished to find her Templar--friend? Ally?-- _ something. _ Maybe she could ask someone…

“Excuse me,” She asked a lonely Templar keeping watch near her. “Do you know where I can find Angelica? I have been told she was looking for me.”

“The last time I saw her, she was by the Tranquil’s Enchantment room.” He answered and pointed towards a staircase by the end of the corridor. “Just go up those stairs, it’s the second door to the right.”

“Thank you.” She gave the man a tight smile and went on her merry way. 

The room hadn’t been hard to find and Fen’an was glad for it. The Tranquil Mages made her feel uncomfortable with their blank faces, emotionless voices, and hollow eyes. It was wrong to try to avoid those poor souls simply for being victims of the most heinous fate a Mage could be forced into, yet the elf couldn’t help herself but shudder whenever she was close to one of them.

It was fear. Fear that she would end up like one of them. And that possibility was as high as it could get, now that Fen’an was trapped inside a Circle. She went inside the Enchantment room and was relieved when none of the Tranquil looked up from whatever they were doing to see who had just come into their space.

“Fen’an!” Angelica’s voice called from the other end of the room. “Over here!”

The elf walked over to where the Templar was standing, noticing the red-head, Willa, was by her side. Fen’an gave them both a tentative smile and stopped in front of them, still keeping a certain distance. 

“See? I told ya she was fine!” Willa turned to the other human. “Should’ve just believed in me and saved her the trip up here.”

“Sorry for worrying about her!” Angelica scowled at her fellow Templar before turning to look at Fen’an. “I only heard about your Harrowing after some of the Templars involved in it came back last night, they seemed chipper and I thought--”

“Ah,” At that moment, Fen’an was overcome by a sudden wave of affection for the woman. “No, don’t worry. Everything went fine.”

“See? See?” Willa snorted. “This girl here is one hell of a mage.”

“This is not Rivain, Willa.” Angelica sighed. “Being ‘one hell of a mage’ is not seen as a good thing around here.”

“You are from Rivain?” Fen’an asked, interrupting them. 

“My mother was.” The woman smiled. “My pa was a Merchant from Ferelden, they met when he stopped in Dairsmuid. They got married and I was born in the way to Denerim!” Willa raised an eyebrow. “Are you from Rivain?”

“Born and raised.” Fen’an was beaming now. “I grew up by the sea in the east, trained with a Seer and everything.”

“Ha! My granny was a Seer, or so my ma used to tell me.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how true that is though.”

“Your grandmother was a mage?” Angelica hissed, looking shocked. “And you are a  _ Rivaini Seer _ ?” She turned to Fen’an.

“I wouldn’t call myself a Seer…”

“And I don’t even know if my granny was even a mage! It could be all horse shit for all I know!”

“Alright, alright.” The Templar groaned and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just… don’t go around mentioning Rivaini Seers to anyone, it’s not the smartest thing to do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Fen’an snorted, but she meant it. “Thank you for wanting to check on me, by the way. That was sweet of you.”

“Oi!” Willa looked at the elf with fake anger. “What about me?”

“You only checked on her because I asked you to,” Angelica replied.

“That’s not true!”

Fen’an smiled. She liked those two. 

“Anyway!” Angelica raised her voice. “I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I am.” She nodded. “I might have pissed off the First Enchanter today, but if I know myself, that will be a common thing.”

Willa whistled. “You got Catarina mad? Wish I’d seen it.”

“Willa!” The other Templar hissed. 

“What? That woman is as emotionless as a statue when she wants to, I don’t think I have ever seen her that mad.” The redhead looked at Fen’an. “What did you do?”

“Had the gall of being angry at the idea of being entertainment in some noble’s party.” She couldn’t help but scowl. 

“Wait,” Angelica spoke up, her eyes wide. “They’re already planning on sending you to parties?”

“It looks like it, yes.” She nodded.

“For fuck’s sake!” The redhead grumbled. “They really take you lot for animals in some sort of weird zoo, don’t they?”

“They certainly want to parade me around,” Fen’an tried to ignore how her gut feeling screamed at her about all the things that could happen while she was being shown off. 

“Oh that’s the least of your worries, darlin’--”

“Willa!” The other woman elbowed her and the clank of armor echoed in the room. None of the Tranquil looked up. 

“What? I’m right!”

Just when Angelica was about to say something, the door opened again and two other Templars came in. That was her cue to leave. 

“I should be going, I need to help Solas with something back in the Library.” Fen’an gave them a sweet smile. “I hope to see you two often.”

“This Circle ain’t as big as it looks,” Willa snorted. “we’ll be sein’ each other again, don’t worry.”

“See you later, Fen’an.” Angelica added. 

She nodded and hurried to leave the room before the two other Templars got close enough to them. Fen’an was close to the door, but with her eyes focused on it, her mind racing with a hint of fear, she failed to notice the man approaching her until he had grabbed her forearm.

“Look who it is.” The man said and Fen’an froze, recognizing his voice. “The knife-eared bitch lives!”

“Let go of me.” She hissed the words at him, but Gregory only smirked. 

“You are in the Circle now, rabbit.” He ignored her demand. “We  _ Templars _ make the rules around here, not some prudish Chantry Mother.” He leered at her, and she felt a shiver down her spine. “You know, Seamus and I are still pretty shaken by what you did to our friend back in the woods,” His other armored hand went to play with her hair. “but I know a way you can help us cope with the loss… I bet it would feel amazing to pull these ears of yours from behin--”

“ _ Sir Gregory _ .” Angelica’s voice was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. “Let go of the mage, she was here by my request and needs to return to her research.”

Bless that woman.

“Of course,  _ sir  _ Angelica.” Gregory gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he then looked back at Fen’an. “Off you go, little rabbit.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. The moment she felt the man had let go of her, she bolted to the door. Her heart was beating painfully against her chest, the skin of the forearm Gregory had touched felt like it was burning. She needed to get as far away from that  _ shemlen _ as she could, she needed to get out of the Circle. 

Fen’an mindlessly made her way back to the library and only noticed where she had ended up when she was met with the vision of Solas sitting in one of the desks, focused on the book Illario had shoved on them. Her throat tightened and she made her way towards him.

“Solas.” He looked up at her when hearing his name.

He must have seen the distress in her face, for he was quick to close the book, his brows furrowed, and walk around the table to reach her. His touch was secretive, careful, a simple brush of fingers on her wrist, but it was enough to make her lose her breath. She wanted desperately to kiss him again but knew it would be too big of a risk for them to take.  _ Patience. _

“ _ Vhenan _ .” Solas murmured, his eyes searching hers. “What is wrong?”

“Can we go to the Fade?” She looked up at him. “I’m  _ sick  _ of this place,” Fen’an scowled. “I just want to get away from all of this.”

“Of course.” He took a step back and gave her a sweet smile. “I am sure no one will question if we retire earlier, I will come for you once we are both in the Fade.”

“Thank you.” Fen’an whispered with a smile. “I’ll see you there.”

With that, they parted ways, each one to their respective rooms. There was a female Templar guarding the door and she didn’t stop Fen’an from going inside, so maybe it wasn’t that uncommon for mages to decide they wanted to sleep all day? She doubted it, chuckling at the thought. She made it into her ‘bedroom’ and closed the curtains tightly. Fen’an took her shoes off but decided against changing into her sleep clothes, it  _ was _ rather early so there was still a possibility that she would need to do something outside of her room.

The elf buried herself under the covers and closed her eyes. She calmed her breathing and was soon falling asleep, being pulled into the Fade. 

Fen’an was instantly met by the sight of a beautiful meadow, she was laying down on soft grass, surrounded by the calming chirping of birds.

“My heart.” Solas’ voice sounded from her right and she turned her head to look at him. 

“Hello.” She felt silly saying that, but she pushed the feeling away when Solas smiled at her. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No need to thank me,  _ vhenan _ .” He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, tentative. “You seemed distressed and it made me worry, I have not forgotten the incident back in that small Chantry.” 

Fen’an tensed and worry flooded Solas’ face, he came closer and touched their foreheads together. She closed her eyes and sighed, her hands reached for his shoulders and pulled him to her, hiding her face against his neck. Solas moved his hands to her back, gently rubbing her covered skin. Fen’an hummed and placed a long kiss on his warm skin, already feeling calmer.

“I have missed you, old wolf.” She pulled back from his neck so she could reach his lips. 

“Hm,” He chuckled and his right hand rose to grab her hair. “Do you enjoy mocking me, my heart?”

“You make my job easy if I’m being honest.” She kissed him again. “But since you have been so nice, I promise I’ll behave.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” Solas pulled her against him, resting her head on his chest.

“Stop being an ass.” Fen’an grumbled, not really offended, and focused on the sound of his heart. 

They both went silent, just enjoying each other’s touch. It reminded her of their quiet nights in her room back at Skyhold, feeling the breeze that came from the open balcony doors and admiring how  _ breathtaking _ Solas looked in the moonlight. Maybe he could take her to Skyhold again…

But she needed to tell him  _ all  _ the truth first, as much as the idea terrified her. 

“Solas,” She said his name, backing away from his hold so she could push herself up and sit. “I need to tell you everything.”

“Fen’an,” He too sat up. “I can wait longer if you are feeling unwell, you do not need--”

“I  _ want  _ to tell you.” She interrupted. “It’s important that we both enter this--” She hesitated. “ _ relationship _ knowing the full story. And right now, you are the one missing information.”

Solas simply nodded.

“Will you let me take over?” She asked.

“ _ Ma ghilana vhenan. _ ” He replied, not needing an explanation for what she meant.

She closed her eyes and urged her magic to change the vision around them, the meadow slowly turning into a dark cellar. 

Fen’an showed him  _ everything _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you think of it in the comments! 
> 
> Also, if you could recommend this fic to any friend, I would really appreciate it *wink wink*


	8. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'an comes clean and some other secrets come out to not so friendly ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter and it has been sitting in my google docs for a long while, but I wanted to post it this month instead of just throwing it at you guys. Chapter 8 is being written, but Idk when it will come out :/
> 
> I'm also trying a new thing in this chapter: Present Tense. 
> 
> I have been writing this story in past tense so far, but it was starting to become a bit hard, I guess? Idk how to explain it, but I tried writing in Present Tense and it just came so easily! Still, I want to hear your opinions! This chapter and the next one will be in present tense but if you guys don't like it, I can try to go back to past tense.
> 
> Anyway, just let me know!

She shows him. 

He barely says a word as Fen’an’s memories play around them. She keeps close attention to him, observing for any reactions to what he was seeing. He stares at the mark on her hand with furrowed brows but refrains from asking any questions. She sees his eyes widen when he watches himself grabbing Fen’an’s hand and using it to close a rift.

He observes, tense, Fen’an’s memory of her encounter with the Envy demon, and his eyes glint with curiosity at Teyrna Mahariel’s tale of what she had seen in Redcliff. The closing of the Breach, the attack on Haven, the journey to Skyhold, and the moment she was made the Inquisitor… Their first kiss in the Fade.

Solas turns to look at her with a raised eyebrow and a smug grin when he hears the memory version of herself say ‘Fade-tongue’ and Fen’an sticks her very own fade-tongue out at him. 

It was silly, but it helped her calm down considerably. The fact that he is taking the information well enough to play around with her… Fuck, she could cry out of joy.

Creators, she is too in love for her own good.

He then sees Wisdom’s death.

“I--” His voice fails and she stops the visions around them. “Will you give me a minute, vhenan?” He whispers, looking at her with the same haunted expression he had had in his eyes when his friend died. “I know she is not really dead but--”

“Take as long as you need.” She speaks up when he hesitated mid-sentence. “The thought of losing her hurts you, I understand.” She takes a step closer to him. “But you must know that you don’t need to grieve alone.”

Solas looks at her, a small, sad smile on his lips. “Thank you.” He then lets out a sigh. “I think it is best if we continue.”

“Alright.” The visions around them resume their movements. “We still have a lot to see.”

Then it came the issues with the Wardens, he sees Hawke and Stroud and the army of demons the Venatori wanted to summon. He scowls at the notion of killing the remaining Old Gods and Fen’an tells herself to remember to ask him about it later. He sees the Nightmare, and Stroud’s sacrifice and how Fen’an recruited the Wardens into the Inquisition. Surprisingly, Solas doesn’t question her on her choice.

She wonders if she should show him all parts of their relationship, it wasn’t all that relevant, was it? Should she ask if he wanted to know?

_ Fuck it. I’m showing it. _

And show she does. 

It makes heat bloom in her chest, warming her neck and cheeks, the way Solas seems to focus more on their little moments together than on anything else. Fen’an could have been imagining it, that soft glint in his eyes nothing more than her own silly hope. And Creators… she hoped. She hopes he won’t push her away after learning about what had happened before she had been thrown back into the past. She hopes so, so much, that they could return to the simplicity their love had been back in Skyhold, without hard realities to weight them down.

But Solas hadn’t been exactly free ‘back then’.

Fen’an brushes those thoughts away and goes back to paying attention to making her visions as accurate as she remembered them. Halamshiral came and went, then the whole conflict with the Jaws of Hakkon and finding Ameridan, the Temple of Mythal makes him pause, it is then that he makes his first inquiry.

“You drank from the Well of Sorrows?” He has the same  _ damn _ face he had pulled on her in the rotunda, at their talk about what she wanted to do with the power of the Well.

She nods. “I did.” With a raised eyebrow, she then says; “And I would do it again. The voices from the Well helped me a lot ever since I woke up in ‘here’.”

Solas tenses and he moves to take her head in his hands, his eyes search for something on her face. “You still hear the voices?”

She frowns. “Yes, I  _ did  _ drink from it.” Her right-hand moves to squeeze one of his. “Why?”

“How can you hear the voices from the Well you have not yet drunk from?”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“Oh fuck.” She groans, lowering her head and closing her eyes. “ _ This  _ is why I hate time travel.”

“We need to return to Mythal’s Temple.” Solas pushes some strands of her white hair away from her face. “The sentinels might be able to help.”

“There’s an Eluvian there.” She says, perhaps stupidly, considering he had seen it in her memories just then. “If we can find one near us, I can probably open the one inside the Temple from the Crossroads.”

He chuckles. “Crossroads is a fitting name, I like it.” He lets go of her face and turns his head to the direction of the memory-Eluvian. “Dare I hope that you know where to find an Eluvian?”

“Well…” Fen’an gives him a small smile. “I might have an idea, but we can’t be too sure… The future  _ can  _ change, you know? You are awake some ten years earlier, after all.”

“That much is true.” Solas returns her smile. “I could try looking for one. Spirits can sense them easily even with the Veil in place, perhaps they will be able to help us find one.”

“I know there will be one in Kirkwall in a few years,” There is no harm in telling him. “A First named Merrill will fix and try to activate one.” 

“How was it damaged?” He asks.

“I don’t know any details.” She shrugs. “I never thought to ask Hawke about it, and Merril and I never had a chance to meet in person long enough to have a conversation.”

“I see.” He hums. “I suppose we have enough time so we can worry about it later.” With a laugh, he continues; “Ah, how have I missed the sweet embrace of procrastination.”

Fen’an laughs, her entire body shaking. “That’s the least ‘Solas’ thing I have ever heard you say!”

Solas smirks and shakes his head. “Be prepared to hear more unusual things, vhenan, I pretend to keep surprising you for a long time.” He then returns his attention to the vision around them. “I suppose there is more to see than just this.”

“Yes,” She barely manages to get the word out. “But we are nearly there.”

Watching him leave her behind at Crestwood is more painful than she had imagined it would be, the ‘third-person’ perspective allows her to see her own pained expression and it causes a familiar sense of dread in her chest. 

And then, Mythal, or Flemeth, or whatever she is called. And Fen’an’s anger towards her. Oh, how she  _ hates _ that woman. The poor excuse of a goddess that had run to a human woman instead of helping her own people. Fen’an had rejoiced at the news that she was dead. She hopes to be the one to kill that witch this time around… 

“Mythal lives,” Solas whispers, his eyes wide and glinting with hope.

‘ _ For now. _ ’ She doesn’t dare say it, not in front of him. She would have a secret, it seems, regardless of how honest she wishes to be with him. “Yes.” It was all she says. “Shall we continue?”

“I--” He hesitates, as if wishing to ask more. “Of course.” If he notices how sour Fen’an had turned, he doesn’t mention it.

She shows him the battle with Corypheus, how she killed him and how she hid the orb away, pretending it had shattered. The Solas in the memory was devastated at the supposed loss of the orb and the memory version of herself lied to his face, saying how sorry she was about it being broken. ‘ _ What we had was real. _ ’ Memory-Solas said and Fen’an looks away. The hurt was pretty real too, and still too fresh, despite the years.

The party afterwards was meaningless, and much of what happened before the Exalted Council was as well, so she elects to skip it. She shows him how the nobles had grown weary and how Vivienne, now Divine, and Queen Athera had done their best to keep them off the Inquisition as long as they could, but to no avail.

The Qunari, the Vir Dirthara, the Eluvians, and the truth. 

Oh, how it had hurt.

Oh, how it  _ still _ hurt.

What a fool she is. She had even fallen for him all over again (she doubts she had ever stopped loving him, however). 

‘ _ Var lath vir suledin.’  _ Foolish,  _ foolish _ woman. Doomed by her own words.

“Did it?” His voice takes her out of her musings.

“What?” She blinks. 

“Endure?” He whispers, eyes hopeful.

‘ _ Yes. For better or worse. _ ’

“It did.” She smiles weakly. “I’m a lovesick idiot.”

Solas takes her hand in his. “If it makes you feel better,  _ vhenan _ ,” He smiles sweetly. “I am even more of a fool than you are.”

She snorts and rests her head on his chest, her hands touch his chest and he places his on her lower back, pulling her closer to him. “You are not supposed to be trying to cheer me up.” Fen’an sighs and closes her eyes. “You should be angry at what I did.”

“I believe you have more right to anger than I, Fen’an.” He whispers. “And yet… You would still have me.”

“A fool, remember?” She replies. “Besides, you are different than the ‘you’ I met before. Or at least I believe you are.”

“On that aspect, we agree.” Solas voice is filled with mirth. “I might be a fool, but the Solas you met was an idiot.”

“I see that your self-esteem is a high as ever, old wolf.” She looks up to smile at him.

“I promised to say only the truth.” He smiled back before his face fills with worry again. “That was not all, was it?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It gets worse, believe it or not.”

So she shows him what it happened. What his efforts managed to achieve and how the Qunari damned them all by destroying the Veil in their own, twisted way. She shows him how she left him behind with what was left of the elves and made her own way through the land, slowly wasting away as the magic of the Anchor killed her.

Finally, she shows him how she ‘died’ and ended up waking up in his uthenera chamber, naked, and young again. 

“That world…” Solas takes a step back from her and shakes his head. “It should not have come to that.”

“I wish the Qunari had agreed.” Fen’an comments. “They tried too hard to stop you, I suppose, and then they only made it worse.”

“Still,” He sighs. “I should have been more careful.”

“We can be careful when we try it this time.” She says and Solas looks at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You…” He hesitates. “You want to help me take down the Veil?”

“You saw my memories,” She replies. “My opinion on the matter hasn’t changed, I  _ will  _ find a way to get rid of the Veil with or without your help.”

“ _ Vhenan _ -”

“Next year,” She interrupts him. “A Blight will start in Ferelden. A man named Loghain will take this opportunity to betray his King and later, he’ll sell the elves from Denerim’s Alienage to Tevinter in order to fund his daughter’s stupid bid for the throne.” She feels her rage building up. “Ten years later, Empress Celene of Orlais will burn Halamshiral to the ground and kill thousands of elves.” Her voice is now tight with anger. “And this is only the atrocities I know of. How many more have happened or are yet to happen?”

That makes him silent.

“If I want my people- _ our  _ people- to survive, I need the Fade and the waking world to be one and the same again.”

“Fen’an,” He starts slowly. “If you were to die-”

“Then I die.” She shrugs. “If my death means my people will endure and be  _ truly _ free, then I will gladly walk towards it.”

Solas looks pained as if her statement had been a knife in his chest. “My heart,” His voice is weak and dripping in pain. “If that is what you wish, then I will support you.” He hesitates. “But I beg you; do not be so eager to throw away your own life.”

“I won’t.” She whispers and raises her hand to touch his cheek. “I’m just letting you know that I’m ready to die for this cause as much as you are.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice low. “And I do not blame you, I just-” He stops as if scared of saying more.

“I know.” It’s all Fen’an replies. “But you won’t fail this time around, we are together in this.”

“I trust you.” Solas takes her hand away from his cheek and brings it to his mouth, kissing it gently. “Wholeheartedly.”

“I love you.” It’s all she’s able to say. 

“I love you too.” He bends down to kiss her.

And, just like that, tons of weight is taken from her shoulders.

She feels free.

She  _ is  _ free.

Fen’an feels herself starting to awaken and she gives Solas a sad look. He gives her a smile of his own and squeezes her hand.

“I will see you in a bit.” She says.

And she is pulled out of the Fade.

* * *

Time passes fast when Fen’an tries to stay out of trouble.

And life in the Circle is  _ nearly _ peaceful, if not for the constant threat of death, tranquility, and/or rape. Ah, the Chantry’s justice! Still, Fen’an is relatively ok. That is until her new robes were ready.

The First Enchanter is there again, humming in approval as the elf tries her new clothes. Alice is mostly silent and so is Fen’an, she really doesn’t feel like fighting, not with how well her love life was going. She holds back the urge to smile. 

“This one looks beautiful.” Catarina smiles a little at the gown Alice had made for the elf. “She’ll fit right in with Antivan high society. Well done, Alice.”

“Thank you, First Enchanter.” The girl murmured shyly.

“I’m positive they will adore you, Fen’an.” She turns to the elf. “You clean up well, and I’m sure we can do something amazing with your hair.”

“No one is touching my hair.” She replies automatically. “I’ll think of some hairstyle I can do on my own, thank you.”

Catarina scowls. “Why are you always so difficult?” 

“You want to whore me out, at least let me style my own hair.” She snarls at the older woman.

She chokes on her tongue and looks up at Fen’an with an angry expression. “I am  _ not _ -”

“You are.” Fen’an interrupts. “Don’t deny it under some twisted impression that you are the ‘good guy’ in this situation.”

The First Enchanter closes her mouth, face suddenly blank. Alice is standing a few steps back, her eyes going from one woman to another, looking scared. Fen’an and Catarina keep their eyes on each other’s, none of them willing to back down. 

“First Enchanter?” Alice’s voice causes the human to look away, and the elf smirks. “Am I excused? This was the last outfit…”

“Of course,” She says softly. “You make take the rest of the day off if you wish.”

“Thank you.” The young girl whispers and hurries off the room so fast Fen’an would have missed if she blinked. 

The fighting parties are left alone in the small bedroom, nothing but thin walls and a curtain to keep the noise inside in case they started a full-blown argument. Fen’an finds herself not caring, but she knows the Enchanter would most likely prefer to avoid any rebellious behavior reaching the Templars. 

“I know you think I’m a villain,” She starts, voice surprisingly soft. “But I’m your most powerful ally here, believe it or not.”

Well, Fen’an certainly finds that hard to believe. 

“Going to those parties will give you a lot of opportunities,” She explains. “They can sponsor any studies you might wish to make and maybe even help you become Grand Enchanter if you have the right connections.”

“I don’t care about  _ connections _ -”

“But you should!” She raises her voice. “The Antivan Circle has as many politics as the Orlesian court, and you’ll need to get used to it!”

‘ _ I know how to survive in Orlais, anyway. _ ’ Fen’an scoffs. “Whatever you say.”

Catarina closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. “You always give me a headache, girl.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” Fen’an snaps, hissing at the woman. “I’m an adult, Creators!”

“Then start acting like one-”

“Don’t you  _ fucking _ dare!” Her magic spikes and the air becomes heavy with it. “You  _ shemlen _ have these stupid opinions on magic and get angry when someone disagrees, so go deepthroat a cactus and leave me be!”

Fen’an feels her left arm growing hot with the Anchor’s magic and does her best to hold it back, it wouldn’t be ideal to have her whole forearm glowing. 

“This is incredibly childish of you and you demand not to be treated as a child?” It’s her reply. “Why can’t you just accept that you are a member of this Circle?”

“Because I’m being punished for something I don’t even believe in!” Fen’an is growing more and more frustrated. “I don’t care about what your chant says! I consider my magic a great blessing, not a curse!”

“You are not among the Dalish-”

“ _ That much _ I have accepted.” She can’t help it, she is losing the grip on her temper. “I’m reminded of it every single day! Being forced to attend to those stupid Chant classes, wear these ridiculous robes and show respect those  _ vermin _ you call Templars!”

It’s how the woman’s eyes focus on Fen’an’s left hand that makes her notice the green glow. 

_ ‘Fuck’ _

“So it’s true.” Catarina whispers, the confrontational tone now gone from her voice. “You have power over ancient magic.”

“Yes.” Fen’an holds her arm close to her chest. “What do you intend to do about it?”

“I’m not telling the Templars if that’s what you think.” She says. “They have their suspicions, but I won’t confirm them.”

“Then?”

Her eyes meet Fen’an’s. “I want to study it. Study you.”

Fen’an blinks, shocked. “Excuse me?” Her voice comes out a little louder than usual.

“I have never seen magic like this before.” She explains. “This is an incredible opportunity for me and I would be an idiot to pass it.”

“Whoa,” The elf looks at the human, her eyes wide. “You’re serious.”

“Of course,” The First Enchanter nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Fen’an sighs. “Do I even have a choice?”

“We all have a choice,  _ child _ ,” Catarina says. “Your choice is between me and Knight-Commander Marco.”

“I imagined that would be the case.” She feels a bitter taste in her mouth. “Then you can  _ study _ me, First Enchanter.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Fen’an.” She smiles. “We’ll achieve great things together.”


	9. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is still just a woman,” He interrupts, his voice hardening, but still gentle. “Just like Fen’Harel is still just a man.” Solas smiles at the look she gives him, her lips curling up in a smile of her own. “Our titles do not make us any less vulnerable, vhenan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: mentions of Sexual Harassment. 
> 
> It took a while, but here it is! Chapter 8 of To Start Anew! Still on present tense XD. Anyway, this will be the last chapter until October 30, the "birthday" of this story. I originally was only going to post in December, but I can't let this date pass without an update. There might not be any chapter posted in November due to NaNoWrimo, but there's a possibility that I won't resist posting. So... Yeah XD.
> 
> Enjoy!

Solas is, for the first time in a long time, relatively happy.

Of course, his situation isn’t ideal, but he has prevailed against worse odds in his thousands of years of life. 

The Circle, however, is nearly as efficient at draining his patience as Falon’Din’s court. He never would have thought  _ something _ would ever come near the amount of annoyance he used to feel when made to attend such events, but then the Chantry made the Circles! 

To the Chantry’s credit, their mage prisons are safer than Falon’Din’s court ever was. 

Which isn’t that hard of an accomplishment to achieve. The man  _ is  _ the god of the dead, after all.

Still, the Dread Wolf found a new reason to be optimistic: Fen’an.

As always, Solas is a fool, but now he was a fool  _ in love. _ It doesn’t feel all that different, but the warmth in his chest is definately new, and so is the relief of not being alone. After years of watching the post-veil world and feeling less and less like he belongs, having someone that  _ understands _ is the most welcome of feelings.

“You’re awfully silent,” Illario comments, looking over the book he’s reading.

“That is not unusual,” He replies, raising an eyebrow.

They’re in their shared room, each one in their own little corner. Illario, much like Solas, is a quiet man, even if his tongue is twice as venomous as Solas’ can be. That elf is quite an odd man.

“This silence is different,” The blond elf shrugs. “You have that idiot face on too.”

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t want to believe he heard it right.

“You know what I mean,” He sounds annoyed now. “You’re the clear image of a ‘rabbit in heat’ all the shem nobles like to talk about.”

By the Fade! Solas wants to find a place to bury himself in just so that he doesn’t need to face the mortification that man is able to make him feel. Why did the Templars decide to force Illarion onto him?

“This is highly inappropriate,” It’s what he decides to say, not wanting to feed the fire of Illario’s venom. “And I ask that you do not talk about your people so poorly.”

“I’m not talking poorly about the elves,” Illario puts his book down. “I’m just letting you know; the Templars  _ always _ keep a closer look at us knife-ears, and if I can see the way you sniff around Fen’an all day, so do those armored fools.”

Illario, as surprising as it is, has a point.

He and Fen’an… haven’t been the most discreet of lovers, despite their best efforts. They’re usually together, whispering in elven whenever someone is close enough to hear them; and their eyes are always on each other, having silent conversations with a single look.

Solas knows it’s dangerous, but he can’t help it.

He’s a parched man, and Fen’an is like the finest of wines. How can he resist the allure of her? Her mere presence makes him wish he could just rush and take her in his arms in front of the entire world to see, but he can’t, not  _ yet _ .

He aches, not only for her, but his dreams of the better life he can achieve for the elves have begun to include her; always there, side by side. Fen’an is part of him now, and as much as he always planned to be alone, he cannot see himself without her. What a fool he is. A fool madly in love.

“We will try to be more careful.” He says, but Illario only shakes his head..

“You should just stop,” It’s what he says. “At least until the novelty of having a Dalish woman in the Circle wears off.” 

“I do not catch you meaning, lethallin.” Solas raises an eyebrow.

“Fen’an’s a new ‘toy’,” Illario explains after an annoyed sigh. “Some Templars are always interested in ‘new meat’ but a lot of them are going to try to have a taste of a pretty Rivaini Dalish elven mage.” He counts with his fingers. “She’s really up there in the ‘exotic’ scale.”

“That is absolutely disgusting.” Solas interrupts, a wave of very familiar anger taking hold of his chest.

The blond mage just shrugs. “I’m not saying it isn’t, but that’s how it works here in the Circle.” He continues; “And if they see Fen’an all happy and touchy with you, they are going to feel entitled to her ‘attention’ too.”

Ah, he sees it now. How odd is it that the world can change so much yet so little at the same time? The Templars are not so different from some of the higher-ranked Dreamers of Arlathan; using their status to get whatever they want; if they have an itch, they simply scratch it. The warmth of a woman’s body is so easy to obtain when denying you may cost their lives.

“I will talk to Fen’an,” The ancient elf murmurs, his mind both there and elsewhere. “And I will stay away from her.”

There’s a minute of uncomfortable silence between them, and Illario looks a bit guilty even though it isn’t his fault, the way the Templars command the mages’ entire lives. “Look,” The mage says and Solas looks at him. “I--” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck under his long blond hair. “I’m sorry you two were captured,” He says. “I can see the way you look at each other, and I haven’t seen such affection around here in a long time.” Illario’s green eyes are filled with sorrow and his brows are furrowed. “I just don’t want any of you to suffer simply for the supposed crime of being in love.”

Of all the motives Solas could think of for Illario to warn him, ‘being on the side of love’ certainly wasn’t one of them. How many lovers did he see sharing a terrible fate? 

“Thank you, Illario,” He says. “Your worry means a lot to me.”

The elf just waves his hand dismissively, his pale cheeks a soft shade of pink. “Whatever you say, old man. I don’t know what Fen’an sees in you.”

“Neither do I,” It’s his simple reply. “But do not tell her that, I am sure she has a long list of things she likes about me.”

Illario makes a disgusted noise mixed with a snort. “Gods, no. I don’t want to hear that.”

That catches Solas’ attention; “Gods”, not Maker. “Do you believe in the ancient elven gods, Illario?”

“Kind of.” He retreats into himself again, all the mirth gone. 

A sore subject. “I will not judge you if you do, Lethallin.” 

“You would be the first,” Illario looks away from the older man. “It’s-- _ hard _ to worship gods you barely know but I’ve always felt freer when I pray to them.” He explains. “They didn’t tell the elves to lock away all their mages.”

That much is true about the Evanuris, he supposes. “Magic is the gift of the people,” Solas says, and he understands why Illario feels so out of place as an elf in the Circle of Magi. “All Elvhen were mages in Elvhenan and the Kingdom of the Dales held their mages in high regard.”

“Sounds  _ magical _ .” The elf jokes and it makes Solas chuckle. “Not being locked away, and pretending to be someone you’re not definitely sounds incredible.”

“I hope that you will experience this freedom one day, Illario.” Solas will make sure he experiences it, once he and Fen’an set their people free of the bindings of the Veil. 

“I think I’ll be dead long before that.” It’s his reply, said in an unusually soft tone. “But thank you.”

Solas nods and doesn’t say anything when the other elves stand up to leave, taking the book with him, his shoulders a bit tense. He needs some time alone and Solas can understand that. Now alone, the ancient elf decides to sleep. 

He needs to visit the Fade, talk to Wisdom, and search for the magical signature the Eluvians leave in the World that Dreams. The Eluvians are essential to his plans, and the sooner he can get control of even a handful of them, he can start gathering agents. 

It’s easy for him to fall asleep, he has millennia of practice. 

The Fade welcomes him with the warmest of embraces, far more familiar and friendlier than the Thedas he had woken up to. The demons attracted by the Circle have already learned to leave him alone, not interested in prey that pays them no mind; so he makes his way towards Wisdom’s ‘safe’ area without any trouble.

His friend is there, waiting for him.

“ ** _My friend,_ ** ” The spirit says when he approaches. “ ** _I got in contact with a group of guards near the location of one of the Old Gods,_ ** ” Wisdom is clearly distressed. “ ** _They woke up when darkspawn disturbed the wards around Urthemiel, the captain said they lost ten guardians._ ** ”

Yes, the Blight Fen’an mentioned when she told him the truth. How should he react to what Wisdom is telling him? Deep down, he knows there’s no stopping the Darkspawn, not when four other Old Gods were turned into Archdemons before, and not when he -knows- that the Fifth Blight is coming.

“ ** _Tell them to retreat,_ ** ” Solas makes his decision. “ ** _Urthemiel is already lost._ ** ”

The spirit nods and summons a whisp, which floats away into the Fade, making its way to where it can get in contact with the Old God’s guardians. “ ** _I didn’t expect to see you give up on one of the keys so easily._ ** ”

“ ** _I know things I did not before,_ ** ” He shakes his head. “ ** _Trying to hold against the Darkspawn would kill more of The People than we can spare._ ** ”

“ ** _Such a wise decision,_ ** ” His spirit friend smiles, teasing him. “ ** _You should change your name -Pride-._ ** ”

He snorts. “ ** _If only it were that simple._ ** ” He says. “ ** _I fear that Pride is still the most appropriate name for me, my friend._ ** ”

“ ** _I won’t argue, for -now-._ ** ” Wisdom turns to look just outside the wards they’re currently in. “ ** _I don’t like this place, Solas, the Circles are not for spirits like myself to be around._ ** ”

“ ** _I know,_ ** ” How he regrets being captured, not only for himself but for Fen’an and Wisdom. They don’t deserve to be imprisoned; they are free spirits-no pun intended. “ ** _If Fen’an and I are lucky, we will be able to leave soon._ ** ”

“ ** _That’s what I hope as well, my friend._ ** ” The spirit sighs and looks away. 

He needs to change the subject, he’s already pushing Wisdom against its purpose too much, he can’t risk losing his closest friend because of his own failures. Not again. “ ** _Fen’an told me the truth about her,_ ** ”

“ ** _She did?_ ** ” The spirit laughs. “ ** _Finally! I thought she was never going to do it._ ** ”

“ ** _You knew?_ ** ” Solas can’t believe it. 

“ ** _Yes and no,_ ** ” It’s the spirit’s reply. “ ** _I knew there was something about her, something she was hiding._ ** ”

“ ** _Well,_ ** ” He shrugs. “ ** _She showed me her memories in the Fade. Would you like to see them? You are… part of them._ ** ”

“ ** _Oh?_ ** ” That picks its interest. “ ** _Do tell!_ ** ”

Solas shows Wisdom the same visions Fen’an provided him with; it goes faster than their own session since his spirit friend can process the information the Fade provides quicker than any ‘physical’ beings. Wisdom shows no reaction to its death, calm and collected as ever. The spirit only talks when the visions are done.

“ ** _That’s most peculiar._ ** ” His friend says. “ ** _I have never heard of such a reaction to a focus before._ ** ”

“ ** _I-_ ** ” He hesitates, not sure if he should bring up Wisdom’s death.

“ ** _Solas, I’m not dead,_ ** ” It’s all the spirit says. “ ** _There is no need to grieve for something that has not happened._ ** ”

“ ** _Of course,_ ** ” It’s hard for him to see it as Wisdom does, but he doesn’t press the issue. “ ** _I can see your point, even if I do not agree with it._ ** ”

“ ** _It has not happened, and it won’t._ ** ” There’s finality in its words. “ ** _We don’t need to think about it any longer._ ** ”

Solas only nods, afraid that speaking would cause him to only talk about it further. 

“ ** _Good._ ** ” Wisdom’s demeanor changes and the spirit goes back to being fascinated by the discovery of Fen’an’s ‘future’. “ ** _I wonder what changes her body has gone through due to the anchor’s magic. She has already changed, did you notice?_ ** ”

“ ** _I did not,_ ** ” He admits, frowning. 

“ ** _Too busy being in love, I see._ ** ” The spirit teases, giving him the look of a gossiping parent. “ ** _If only your enemies knew that’s all it takes._ ** ”

“ ** _I apologize for being enamored with the most extraordinary woman I have ever met._ ** ” Solas speaks in a joking manner, but he means every word. “ ** _And about the orb’s magic; Fen’an and I agreed to study it together, so we can better understand how she got here and how to use the anchor in our favor._ ** ”

“ ** _So you have let her in,_ ** ” His friend points out, beaming. “ ** _Completely so. I’m proud._ ** ”

“ ** _It is an interesting feeling,_ ** ” He admits, not really sure how to explain. “ ** _Trust does not come easily to me._ ** ”

“ ** _And that might never change,_ ** ” The spirits shrugs. “ ** _But you don’t have to trust everyone, just -someone-, at least._ ** ”

It’s easier said than done; all his years at Arlathan’s court had taught him to mistrust others, and beautiful elven women that went his way were always the most suspicious of all that searched for his favor. And there’s no better word to describe Fen’an:  _ Beautiful. _

Ugh, he sounds like a lovesick teenager.

And, just as his mind turns to the woman, he feels her; like a beacon, the ancient magic growing stronger inside of her catches the attention of many spirits and even more demons. He turns to Wisdom, but it has already left, probably wishing to give them privacy. His friend has taken the role of his matchmaker, it seems.

With Wisdom gone, the wards around its safe spot weaken enough for Fen’an to find him, and he feels that something is amiss. She’s frantic, troubled, and she moves with far too much desperation for how elegant she usually is. Fen’an enters and Solas can’t help it but stare, wide-eyed.

“Ma vhenan,” He approaches her, and his hand goes straight to her hair. “What happened?”

The long cascade of white was gone; cut off rather harshly just above her shoulders. She looks down, her face contorting into a frown as she tries to keep herself from crying. “I just felt like a change in style, that’s all.” Her voice fails.

“Vhenan,” Solas moves his fingers from her hair to her cheek. “Did someone cut your hair? Was this a punishment?”

She shakes her head. “I did this myself… It explains why it looks like shit.” Her body shakes a little as she breathes in. Yes, she had been crying to the point of her exhaustion slipping into her dreams. “It was due to my own stupidity.”

He frowns. “Fen’an--”

“It’s just--” The Dalish woman interrupts, looking down to the ground as her voice fails and her eyes tear up again. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then says; “Anger is my default reaction to everything,” Fen’an admits in a tired sigh, her hand rising up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I used to lash out so that people I didn’t want near me would stay away, and it  _ worked. _ But it only worked because those people had no real power over me.” She then looks up at him, eyes puffy. “But the Templars? They  _ do  _ have power over me now, Solas, and I was too proud to admit it.” Fen’an scoffs, humorless. “My mother would always tell me that lashing out in anger is not always the best choice, but I guess I didn’t believe her before today.”

Solas shapes the Fade around them, changing the small meadow Wisdom made for a familiar garden; there is a low table surrounded by many pillows laid on the ground, around them there are many spheres of crystalline water floating while colorful fishes swan inside. His vhenan looks around, and he feels his chest warm up at the small smile that graces her lips when she sees the animals. “What is this place?” 

“The water gardens of a small palace I once owned,” He guides her to one of the pillows, allowing her to make herself comfortable before he sits by her side. “I used to come here when I required a break from the politics of Arlathan.”

Fen’an sighs and rests her head against his shoulder. “Did you spend much time here?”

“As much time as I was allowed,” He wonders how many times one of Mythal’s servants had visited him to inform the goddess of Justice needed help; his rests never lasted as long as he would have liked. “As Fen’Harel, avoiding the Evanuris’ court was not easy.” Solas moves his body just enough to look at her without forcing Fen’an to take her head off his shoulder. “Are you feeling better?”

She snorts, and pulls back to look him in the eye. “You know exactly how to distract me, don’t you?” Fen’an then hugs him, her arms around his chest, and her face hidden on the crook of his neck. Solas holds her back tightly, resting his chin on top of her head. “I have calmed down a bit, so I guess I am.”

“I am glad,” He uses his magic to call one of the water spheres closer to them, so he could show Fen’an how to play with the friendly fish. “Do you wish to talk about it now?”

“I guess so?” She takes her thumb to her mouth and he notices how she bites onto the skin around her nail. “There isn’t much to say.”

He gives her a pointed look, an eyebrow raised. “If you are not willing to talk right now, I understand, but I must ask that you do not make light of what happened or of what you are feeling right now, vhenan.” Solas takes the hand she was biting onto, and guides it inside the water sphere, smiling at how Fen’an chuckles at the fishes nibbling on her fingers. 

“It was Ser Gregory,” She says after a while, a sigh leaving her lips. “I knew he had some sort of sick interest in me, but I never thought he would…” She trails off and pulls her hand away from the water, so fast it startles the fishes. “I shouldn’t have been so confrontational, even if I didn’t think he would act on his threats.”

“I hope you are not blaming yourself, vhenan.” With a wave of his hands, the spheres float away, and they are alone in the memory of the gardens. “You have no blame in this.”

“I know,” Even though she says this, Solas notices how her body relaxes further. “But thank you.” She looks down at the hand the fishes had nibbled at, seemingly marveling at the fact that her skin isn’t wet. “Ser Gregory cornered me in a hallway,” Fen’a says, looking over at the flowers around them as if she wishes to gather strength from the nature that surrounds both elves. “He said some things, and…” She winces at the memory. “He grabbed my hair when I tried to walk away; a fistful of it.”

Solas clenches his teeth. His anger is quick to build, but he’s equally quicker to control it; in a place that attracts so many demons due to the sufferings of those that live nearby, Solas must be extra careful with how he allows his emotions to emanate from him. Still, it takes far more self-control than usual to keep himself from leaving Fen’an in the relative safety of the water gardens and enacting bloody vengeance upon the Templar. Alas, he can not, at least not at the moment.

“He said he likes when women have long hair,” Her meek voice takes him out of his irate musings. “It feels good to pull it.” She nearly chokes on her own words as she holds back what he imagines is the will to cry. “So I cut it off.” A shaky breath, followed by lowering her head. “I -liked- my hair.” It’s more like a whine than a proper sentence, and Solas barely catches what she says. “But after he grabbed it I couldn’t stop feeling as if my hair was  _ filthy _ .”

“Vhenan,” He says softly, voice low, as he gently takes her chin and raises her face to look at him. Her eyes are wet and puffy, avoiding staring directly into his. “ _ Vhenan. _ ”

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” She sneers. “For all my bravado, I’m reduced to a crying little girl as fast as a bunny running away from a loud noise.” Fen’an turns her head away, but Solas can still see how she scowls. “The mighty Inquisitor…”

“Is still just a woman,” He interrupts, his voice hardening, but still gentle. “Just like Fen’Harel is still just a man.” Solas smiles at the look she gives him, her lips curling up in a smile of her own. “Our titles do not make us any less vulnerable, vhenan.”

“You’re right,” Her laugh is short, but it warms his chest to see her doing so. “I suppose I’m just used to locking myself inside this shell, hiding behind a mask.” Fen’an laughs again, longer this time. “For as much hate I have for the Orlesians, they seemed to have rubbed off on me.”

“Old habits die hard.” It’s all he says. He kisses the side of her head, sighing against her skin. “Would you like to explore the palace, vhenan?” He offers, hoping to give her some sort of distraction. “During the centuries, I filled the walls of this place with murals much like the ones you saw me painting in Skyhold.”

“Oh?” As the curious being he knows she is, Fen’an perks up. “Do they move? Whenever I stared at your frescoes, I always had the feeling that they would start moving at any moment.”

“In here, they do.” Solas stands from the lush pillows and takes Fen’an’s hand to pull her up. “The Veil does not allow the magical properties of the paint to work in the waking world, but in Arlathan, all the murals were brought to life with magic.”

That’s all it takes; Fen’an is now in a full curiosity spree, her amber eyes going straight to the huge doors that lead to the palace’s interior. She looks back at him, and he nods, causing her to smile. “Thank you, Solas.” The woman brings his hand to her lips, placing a long kiss on its back. “Will you entertain yourself while I’m invading your palace?”

“I am sure I can find something to do, my love.” He replies, reassuring her with a quick kiss to her lips. “Go find out my darkest secrets.”

“Don’t tempt me!” And, just like that, she turns away and dashes to the door, disappearing within the palace’s marble walls.

Solas’ smile fades, and he stares at the doorway for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if she’ll come back. She doesn’t. The elven man turns and marches out of the bubble in the Fade. Now, outside of the safety of the area Wisdom carefully built, Solas focuses on looking for Ser Gregory. The demons are fully able to sense the fury in him, and his strong emotions are sure to attract some unwanted attention, so he doesn’t linger close to where Fen’an is. 

Much like the mages, the Templars have their own quarters in the Circle Tower, and it is easy to find them in the Fade. Finding Gregory’s dream takes a while, but he finds it without hassle. Solas stops before entering, urging his form to change using the Fade; he’s surrounded by a pitch-black mist as his own body seems to become weightless. He’s a giant black wolf now, with six bright red eyes; Fen’Harel. 

He enters the dream.

And he’s met with a small garden. From his limited knowledge, Solas supposes this is in one of the city-states in the Free Marches. The house said garden belongs to is of considerable size. Middle class? A lower noble family? It hardly matters, but he can’t help but wonder. The giant wolf lurks in the shadows, six eyes looking for his prey, and he finds him by a window staring up to the sky.

Even without the Templar armor, Ser Gregory is easy to recognize; he always carries himself with the same arrogance he does when dictating the lives of mages, his eyes so full of pride that Solas feels inclined to offer the human his name. A Pride demon would have a party playing with the man.

Solas comes out of hiding, the sound of his growling reverberating inside the limits of the dream. Gregory’s gaze meets the monstrous form of Fen’Harel, and he stiffens, hand going for a sword that isn’t there. “Begone, demon!” The man sneers, taking a step back towards the house. “You can’t harm a true servant of the Maker.”

“ _ Your Maker isn’t here, _ ” Solas says, licking his muzzle. “ _ I am. And you have harmed my heart. _ ”

Confusion floods the human’s face, but that just won’t do; Gregor needs to know  _ why _ he’s being punished. “ _ My heart, Fen’an, I am here for justice.”  _ The wolf stalks closer, baring his teeth, and watching for a reaction. He sees the Templar’s realization with ease.

“The Dalish knife-ear!” The man says, flinching when Solas growls at him. “I knew she was an abomination!” He keeps looking around in search of a weapon, but Fen’Harel won’t allow the Fade to provide him with one. “I should have cut her down the moment I saw her!”

Solas’ anger flares and he wills the dream to obey him; he kills the vegetation around them, and the house behind Gregory starts to crack and crumble. “ _ You have overstayed your welcome among the living, shemlen.” _

“Wait-” The Templar raises his hand.

And Solas strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls leave a comment! They make me really happy and inspire me to write more! I tried a new thing with the chapter (being from Solas' pov and all of that) and would love to hear your opinions about it!


	10. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the Conclave, before she became Inquisitor. 
> 
> Before the ungratefulness of the world she had lost a part of herself to save.
> 
> She misses the Fen’an she was back then; hopeful and happy, believing that, once all that was over, she would disband the Inquisition and travel to Rivain to introduce Solas to her clan. Silly dreams, those were, now that she looks back at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO START ANEW IS 1 YEAR OLD!!!!!!  
God, can you believe it? One year old... Whoa. Time passes quickly, doesn't it?
> 
> Anyway, this is the new chapter, I decided to wait until this story turned 1 before posting this update, just so we could 'celebrate', you know? Also, I'll be taking part in NaNoWriMo this year, and there will be no updates during November :/
> 
> Sad, I know, but I want to write as much as I can so that updates can be more frequent after November. Because just 10 chapters after 1 year of writing seems a bit... yikes to me.
> 
> Well, this is it! I hope you enjoy it!

Fen’an wakes up to the faint sound of whispering coming from outside her room. It doesn’t surprise her that much, since the walls are thin and there’s only a curtain for a ‘door’. Yet, it’s a strange occurrence since the routine is to be woken up by a Templar once Breakfast is about to be served. She blinks, once, twice. Alright, the whispering is still there and there’s no sign of any Templar’s authoritarian voice yelling for them to get up. Something is wrong.

The young woman throws aside the think blankets, not bothering to put on her shoes before venturing out to the hallways to see what the fuck is going on. She doesn’t get far, as the corridor of the woman’s rooms is crowded with whispering mages, all wearing the same dreadful expression. Just like Fen’an, they had noticed the break of routine.

They barely look at her when she squeezes herself between them, trying to reach the heavy wooden door that locked them away from the rest of the circle. And, as expected, it’s sealed shut. No Templars in sight. Fen’an turns to speak to one of the mages near her. “No one has come for us?”

The woman shakes her head. “What if they have evoked the Rite of Annulment?” She whispers to Fen’an, eyes wide. 

“They have not,” She’s firm in her reply, knowing how her calmness will help keep the older woman grounded. “They would have killed us in our sleep if that was the case.”

Perhaps that was the wrong choice of words, but it seems to calm her a bit. Somehow. “What do you think happened?” The woman squeaks. “Did they find a Maleficar?”

‘ _ How am I supposed to know? _ ’ Fen’an wants to ask, but she holds it back, not wishing to add more stress to all the shit that’s currently going on. “Maybe, but if they haven’t come here yet, so I believe we are safe.”

There isn’t much the elven woman can say after that, so she excuses herself and tries to go back to her room; there’s no reason for her to just stay among the crowd when she can just enjoy having some extra time to sleep, after all. She goes back inside and tries to shut off the noise as best as she could, closing the curtain and throwing herself on the bed with the pillow over her head.

Fen’an has no luck, however, since sleep seems to elude her. There’s no going back to it after waking up like she did; so she simply lays there on the bed, waiting while trying to ignore any of the whispered gossip going around. 

That is, until Alice comes in.

“Thanks the Maker! You’re awake!” The girl hurries to the bed, waiting for the elven woman to sit up. “Oh, what happened to your hair?”

Fen’an touches her now shoulder-length hair, feeling the silky threads. “I had to cut it.”

“On your own?” Alice frowns, clearly displeased with what she sees. “At least let me make it pretty!” 

The Dalish elf sighs, not knowing if she should feel annoyance or affection towards the other woman. To her credit, Alice  _ wants _ to help her, so Fen’an nods, standing up to move to the chair. The human smiles, clasping her hands together. “Great! I’ll just go pick my scissors! Wait here.”

With a chuckle, the former (or would  _ future _ be a more fitting term?) Inquisitor closes her eyes, wishing to enjoy a bit of peace. Yet, the first image that comes to her mind when she does so in the face of Gregory and his sneer, the feel of his grip on her hair--

She hits her hand on the desk, hard, and some of the mages outside gasp at the noise, startled, but they quickly go back to their whispering when it is made clear that the sudden sound didn’t come from the outside. Fen’an focuses on the sting of pain on her open palm, using it to ground herself in reality; she had promised not to linger on the events that had made her cut off her long white hair. If she allows herself to ‘brood’ over it, she fears the panic will overtake her again.

“How short do you want it?” Fen’an snaps out of her thoughts at Alice’s return, turning her gaze to the human. 

Just then does Fen’an notices that the whispering has stopped. How long did she…

“Fen’an?” Alice calls her again. “Is everything alright?”

“Why did the whispers stop?” She asks, still dumbfounded over having missed whatever caused the entire commotion to disperse. “Did someone show up to tell us what happened?”

The human mage looks down to her hands, clutching the scissors tightly; she is…  _ scared.  _ “Ser Gregory is dead.”

It feels like time stops.  _ Dead. Dead. Dead. Gregory is dead.  _ But how? How did that happen? Dread washes over her. She  _ knows _ how. After all, a powerful Dreamer can kill people in their sleep, and Fen’an remembers well the story of how Solas had killed (will kill?)  _ dwarves _ in their sleep. So why wouldn’t he be able to kill a human in his sleep? Of course, Solas’ is still weakened, but...

Creators, she doesn’t know if she should feel angry or aroused! Powerful men really do it for her, hm? 

“Do you still want me to cut your hair?” Alice asks, her voice meek. “I can do it later…” There’s something in her eyes, an understanding of sorts. Did Gregory torment her too?

“I would love your help,” Fen’an reassures her, her tone soft, kind, and a small smile on her lips. “I think a new haircut is a perfect way to celebrate, don’t you?”

The human mage doesn’t reply, just goes to work in silence. Fen’an wonders if she’s bothered by how calm the elven woman is in the face of murder? Well, it doesn’t matter, Gregory is  _ gone _ ! It lifts a weight from her shoulders; she’s calmer, less angry at the world. And it feels  _ great _ . How long had it been since she had felt so much peace? Fuck, she was someone else back then. 

Before the Conclave, before she became Inquisitor. 

Before the ungratefulness of the world she had lost a part of herself to save.

She misses the Fen’an she was back then; hopeful and happy, believing that, once all that was over, she would disband the Inquisition and travel to Rivain to introduce Solas to her clan. Silly dreams, those were, now that she looks back at them.

The coolness of the scissors and the sound of Alice cutting her hair is the only thing outside of her thoughts that Fen’an is able to focus at the moment, and only because it reminds her of happier times. “Back” in 9:42, after most of her hair got burned off by a High Dragon, the blissful day she spent locked inside her rooms in Skyhold, having Solas all to herself. He had helped her cut her hair back then, getting rid of all the charred bits. 

She had been happy then.

‘ _ Why can’t I be that happy now? _ ’ She wonders, biting her lower lip in frustration. ‘ _ Why can’t I  _ ** _let_ ** _ myself be happy like that again? _ ’

There’s no Inquisition, and it is unlikely that it will ever come to exist as Fen’an knows it, if at all. Thedas will hate her for what she intends to do, the humans will most likely try to turn her into an elven equivalent to a Magister to the masses, but her people will be safe; they will be  _ free _ in a way they haven’t experienced in centuries. That’s worth the hate, thousand times over.

The structures of power she’ll undermine will hate her, yes, but they had already done that when she was Inquisitor; the only difference is that, now Fen’an is choosing to expose herself to them. There’s a peace that comes with that realization, that comes with that  _ choice.  _ Fen’an takes that old, festering anger inside of her,

and let go. 

She’s free.

“What do you think?” Alice’s murmur sounds from behind her, expectant. 

She looks at her reflection on the small mirror hanging on the room’s wall. It was shorter now, in a practical style that comes down to just tickle her ears. It was _ just  _ like the one Solas had done when she had lost her hair to the High Dragon. ‘ _ Weird. _ ’ She thinks. And creepy, but alright… she hopes. “I love it, Alice,” Fen’an tells the other woman with a smile. “Thank you for your help, it means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” Alice seems happier now that she’s got approval for her work. “Well, I’ll be going back to my room, then.” She sighs, but it sounds a lot like a whine. “There’s no breakfast today.”

“Because of Gregory’s death?” Fen’an frowns. The man didn’t deserve the consideration of a ‘mourning period’.

“The Templars are still investigating, I think.” She shrugs. “Anyway, bye, Fen’an!”

“Goodbye!” The elf waves when Alice turns her back and leaves, closing the curtain shut behind her. Did everyone notice how much Fen’an likes her privacy? She assumes so. Now, with the mages still locked inside their rooms until further notice, the elven woman has absolutely  _ nothing _ to do. She has no books in her room, and no personal belongings either, so what is she supposed to do while contained to the confines of her little room? “Fuck,”

She throws herself back on the bed and runs her hand through her hair; she likes it, truly. Fen’an prefers to keep her hair long, but it grows fast, so she’s not too worried to have lost all her ‘progress’ at waiting for it to grow. Maybe, when she leaves the Circle, she can start wearing those big circle earrings without worrying that her hair might be hiding them--

The door of the hallway bursts open, and heavily armored steps make their way in.

“Knight-Commander, this is absurd!” The angry, yet elegant voice of First Enchanter Catarina makes itself known. “There’s absolutely  _ no _ way she was responsible--”

The curtain blocking Fen’an’s room from the hallway is pulled open. “You  _ don’t know that _ Catarina!” It’s the Knight-Commander, addressing the woman without looking at her. There are two more Templars behind them. “She has motive--”

“And so do half of the mages in this tower!” The Enchanter is hissing now. “Ask any of the girls in here and they  _ will _ tell you about Gregory! Even some of your  _ Templars-- _ ”

“ _ Yes, _ ” Marco hissed back. “I know of Gregory’s alleged--”

“ _ Alleged? _ ” Catarina interrupts. “There’s nothing  _ alleged _ in all the testimo--”

The Knight-Commander  _ slapped her _ . It catches her by surprise, and the older woman hits the ground on her hands, gasping. “You will  _ not _ slander the dead,  _ mage _ !”

Fen’an slips out of bed, and hurries to Catarina. “First Enchanter!” She helps her sit up, and notices the blood on her split lip. “Are you alright?” It’s a stupid question, but one she can’t stop herself from asking.

“I’m fine,” It’s her whispered response. “Nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.”

“You, knife-ear!” Marco growls at her, and she looks up. “We have questions.”

Fen’an gives the man an angry look while she helps Catarina up. “I assume this is about Gregory?” 

“You’re correct.” The Templar leader scowls. “He was found dead on his bed this morning.”

“And, do tell, how could  _ I  _ be responsible for this?” She points at her bed with an elegant finger. “I was here all night.”

“Do not play dumb, mage.” Marco scoffs. “We all have heard tales of dreamer mages that can kill others in their sleep.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I am  _ honored _ that you think so highly of my abilities as a mage, Knight-Commander,” Fen’an raises a white eyebrow at the man. “But do you really believe I would still be in the Circle if I could  _ kill Templars in their sleep _ ?”

She has them there; she knows it, and they know it. They have no proof, only the prejudiced suspicion that the Dalish (former) apostate might be the one powerful enough to do such a thing. Fen’an  _ could  _ do it, but really, it wasn’t her.

“As I have been  _ trying _ to tell you, Knight-Commander,” The First Enchanter spoke up, drawing all eyes to her. “Fen’an  _ isn’t _ a dreamer,” The woman wipes off the blood on her lip with the sleeve of her robe. “I have been instructing her privately to understand her magic better, and so far I haven’t found anything that implies she’s a somniari.”

‘ _ That’s a lie. _ ’ Her mind starts racing, but her face remains a blank mask. Why is Catarina  _ lying _ for her?

“There’s no other explanation--” Marco growls.

“Gregory might simply have died of natural causes,” The Enchanter suggests. “He was not the healthiest of your Templars, if any of the stories I heard are true.”

There’s a minute of silence, Marco and Catarina staring at each other in what feels like a battle of authority. A battle of  _ wills _ . It’s a dangerous plan, that of the Enchanter’s; her lie may cost them their lives, and even if the Knight-Commander believes in her, he may still ask for Fen’an’s head. 

“I suppose…” The man starts speaking, his face contorted in a scowl. “That since you can vouch for the rabbit, we have no reason to believe she was the one who did it.” He then turns his gaze to Fen’an, eyes cold and suspicious. “It’s good to see you so…  _ integrated _ into life here at the Circle,  _ Fen’an _ .” Ugh, she hates how he says her name. “We’ll leave you to your morning, a Templar will come to warn you mages when you’re allowed to leave.” Marco looks at Catarina again. “And I’m sorry, First Enchanter, that was unworthy of me.”

The older woman just nods. “Of course, Marco. You are forgiven.”

Then they leave, and Fen’an finds herself alone with the human sitting meekly on her bed. “Why?” She asks, her brows furrowed. “Why would you do this for me?”  _ Lying. _ She doesn’t say it out loud, but she’s sure Catarina understood her.

“Without my interference, they would have killed you,” She says, her expression tired and more open than Fen’an has ever seen before. “And despite what you think of me, I don’t like seeing my mages being killed.”

Fen’an looks down. “I see,” She wishes she was better at dealing with situations like this one. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Catarina stands, patting down the wrinkles on her robe’s skirt. “I do believe it’s wise for us to start our little classes together as soon as possible, though. To strengthen the lie.”

“Of course!” Fen’an finds herself unable to deny the older woman, and even if she could, she probably wouldn’t, considering how sound the strategy is. “When do you want to start?”

“Right now.” It’s the simple reply.

“Now?” Alright, she wasn’t expecting that. “I will need to change first.”

“I’ll be waiting for you outside.” Despite the faint limping, Catarina walks out as elegantly as ever. 

Fen’an is left alone to get herself presentable, and she’s quick to fetch clean robes and the pair of comfortable boots that had been provided for her. Already dressed, she grabs the standard mage staff they gave her after the Harrowing and leaves her room. She finds the First Enchanter just outside. “We must hurry,” Catarina says as she gently pushes Fen’an forward with a hand on her back. “I don’t have much free time this morning, I’m afraid.”

“Because of Gregory?” She can’t help but ask.

“Yes,” She sighs. “They will request another look at the body, and they might call the Seekers of Truth to investigate it further.”

“The Seekers of Truth…” Does that mean Fen’an might meet a younger Cassandra? She shouldn’t get her hopes up, Cassandra is not the only Seeker out there, after all.

“They are some sort of secret police for the Chantry,” The human woman explains, taking Fen’an’s murmur of the order’s name as confusion. “They usually investigate Templar corruption, or intervene when they think the Order is failing on their duties.”

The elf hums. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Not necessarily,” The right corner of Catarina’s mouth lifts up a little. “But in our case, it might be. They could demand the Circle’s annulment if they think magic is involved in Gregory’s death.”

“Just like that?”

The First Enchanter looks grim. “Just like that.” She guides Fen’an through the eerily empty halls of the Circle, towards what the elven woman assumes is an empty classroom. She closes the door, and moves to open the many small windows in order to get some natural lights. “What I wouldn’t give for a single-wide one,” The Enchanter then shakes her head, sighing. “The nature of our existence won’t allow it, I’m afraid. 

Fen’an has nothing to say to that, at least nothing that she hasn’t already said through gritted teeth and venomous words. Besides, she owes Catarina some peace of mind after having protected her like that. The two women push some desks away to have more space, the elf rushing to help even though the older mage hadn’t asked.

“Very well,” Catarina turns to stand before Fen’an, clasping her hands together. “I want to start with asking a few questions, if that’s agreeable.”

“Go ahead.” The Dalish shrugs. “I will answer as best as I can.”

The woman nods. “Have you always had this power?”

“No,” It’s not a lie, and she’s glad that it starts with a question she can answer truthfully. “I ‘got’ it from some sort of elven artifact, I found it on a ruin near the Tevinter border.”

Catarina hums, and takes a leather journal from a deep pocket on her robes, opening it. “Describe the Temple and artifact for me, please.”

That request is trickier, and now that she’s aware that the Enchanter will take notes, she needs to be careful. “The temple no longer exists, I’m afraid.” A good lie, since she doesn’t want anyone looking for it, even if she has already lied about its location. “It was destroyed after I touched the artifact, probably trying to kill me for having found it.”

The human writes it in the journal. “And the artifact?”

“I left it behind.”  _ I became it _ . “The walls were coming down around me, and my life is more important than any artifact.”

More notes. “And Solas? How did you meet him?”

“He was nearby,” Technically not a lie. “He helped me and we traveled together for a while, we were attacked by bandits a few days before the Templars found us.”

“I see,” Catarina writes something more. “So, let’s talk about the issue we’re really here to talk about.” She points to her left hand with the quill. 

“Of course,” Fen’an looks down to where the anchor was supposed to be. “What do you wish to know?”

“When and how did it start?”

“The first time I noticed it was when Solas and I were attacked by the group of Templars.” The memory still brings a bitter taste to her mouth. “I lost control of my temper, just like when you provoked me… On a bigger scale, of course.”

“So it comes out in moments of great emotional strain,” She writes some more, and looks to nowhere in particular when she’s done, as if lost in thought. “Are you truly unable to control it?”

“I can’t control it  _ yet _ .” Fen’an smiles softly, snorting. “I will try to learn how to use it, eventually.” She sees the raised eyebrow on Catarina’s face. “What? You already know I want to leave this place.”

“Your hope is inspiring, I have to admit.” The Enchanter sighs. “I assume this magic on your arm belongs to the ancient elves, correct?”

“Allegedly, yes.” There’s no reason to deny it, but the elven woman doesn’t really like the idea of explaining the magic of the mark too much. “It could be Tevinter, for all we know, I’m just of the opinion that the Tevinters like stealing from us, but I’m not really sure if the magic itself was elven.”

Creators, now she knows why Solas never revealed too much.

“Alright, can you try to use it? Right now?” Catarina closed the leather journal. “I would like to see it properly.”

Fen’an nods and raises her left hand. She hopes it still works as it did ‘back then’, because if it doesn’t, she has no idea on how to use it. She concentrates, and the warmth of the Anchor’s magic flares under her skin, but not ‘breaking’ it as it used to; instead, the soft green energy starts to emanate from her palm and fingers like a thin mist. The First Enchanter watches, enthralled as the mist slowly rises into the air, only to disappear completely when reaching a certain distance.

“This is fascinating.” She raises her hand as if to touch Fen’an’s arm, but holds herself back. “I have never seen anything like this.”

Neither did Fen’an, that is  _ not _ how the Anchor used to work. And is also  _ very _ different from how it had acted back in the forest. Was it because of her emotional turmoil? Or has the magic changed in the meantime? Was it even possible for it to change? The implications are not something Fen’an wants to think about at that moment. “It didn’t react like this before…” She says. “It was more… aggressive.”

“The Templar’s reports mentioned a very  _ brutal _ power, yes.” The Enchanter nods. “Does it hurt in any way?”

“Not right now,” The elven woman looks at her hand again. “But it did when I was defending myself.”

She takes the leather journal again, writing on it some more. “I see, perhaps it reacts to your emotions, somehow.”

‘ _ That’s a bit obvious by now. _ ’ Fen’an doesn’t say it, but she’s starting to wonder if these ‘classes’ with Catarina will help her at all. “So… what do we do now?”

“I don’t believe going further with exploring this magic will be wise,” It’s her response. “The Templars are nervous, and the possibility of Seeker intervention is high.” She closes her eyes, thinking. “This is, of course, most unfortunate for us, but I’m sure I can think of something to do with these classes in the meantime.”

Taking that as a cue to stop the anchor’s magic from flowing, Fen’an lowers her arm. “And that is?” The elf raises an eyebrow.

The smile on Catarina’s face doesn’t help to make the elven woman any calmer. “Your training on court etiquette, of course.” 

_ Oh for--  _ “Seriously?” She groans. “I  _ really _ don’t want to have to pretend to enjoy some noble’s attention.”

“Entertaining parties and balls is part of life in a Circle, Fen’an,” The Enchanter shrugs, but the elven woman can see how tense she becomes at the possibility of another argument. “No matter how much you hate it, you won’t escape it for long.” She rubs the bridge of her nose. “Gregory’s death might have bought you more time, but it  _ will _ happen.”

‘ _ Great! Do I need to ask Solas to kill a few more Templars for me? _ ’ She’s tempted to do that, that’s for sure. “Then let’s hope another one dies, uhn?”

Fuck, wrong thing to say. Catarina’s eyes are filled with suspicion. “You  _ know _ what happened.” She points a finger to the elf’s chest. “You  _ had _ something to do with it.”

“I had  _ nothing _ to do with it.” Fen’an hisses. “I just might know what could have caused it.”

“And you won’t tell me.” The First Enchanter assumes with a sigh.

“Exactly.” The younger mage smiles. “I can see why you rose up to your position.”

The sentence only brings out another sigh from the human. “You’ll be the death of me, elf.” She shakes her head. “Just go back to your room, Fen’an. I’ll see you another time.”

“All alone?” She asks immediately. “What about the Templars?”

Catarina hesitates, looking more tired than ever. “I-- Yes, you’re right. I should take you back myself.” She opens the door and let’s Fen’an leave the room first, following right behind her after locking the door again. “Come.”

The elf can’t help but try to imagine Vivienne in that situation; wondering if she would have still become the woman she was (is? will be?) if she had been sent to a Circle like Antiva’s or if the restrictions would have beaten the confidence out of her. In truth, Fen’an thinks that not even an extraordinary woman like Vivienne would be able to handle this without coming out emotionally exhausted. 

It makes her respect Catarina a bit more.

They go back to the female mages’ quarters without any hassle, and the Enchanter says her goodbyes at the door, where a Templar waits to open it and grant Fen’an passage. Inside the claustrophobic hallway, she can hear faint whispering from the rooms; the mages are clearly scared at the disturbance on their daily routine.

‘ _ Will we even be allowed to eat today? _ ’ She can already feel the pain of hunger hitting her stomach. ‘ _ I don’t doubt the Templars might feel inclined to starve us after what happened. _ ’

Inside her small bedroom, the elf takes off her robes, putting them away with her staff. She goes back to bed, deciding to take her nap over the covers since it’s too hot for them now that the Antivan sun is out. Fen’an closes her eyes and forces herself to fall asleep, slipping into the Fade.

It’s getting easier for her to go into the Fade at will, and she’s  _ almost _ sure it is because of her magic and the anchor’s slowly merging together. The elven woman doesn’t know if she should feel excited or afraid of what’s happening. Still, so far there have only been benefits. Fen’an can worry about the mark later.

She looks around, trying to feel if Solas is asleep; she notices his presence somewhere ahead and is ready to go over to him when she feels someone else there with her. “You are not Fen’Harel,” A voice accuses from behind her, and Fen’an swirls around to find herself staring at a tall elven man wearing sentinel armor, he’s barefaced. “Yet you carry a mark of magic that is familiar.”

“And you are elvhen,” Since he was pointing out the obvious, she’ll do the same. “Why are you here? I doubt you are trapped in the Circle like Solas and I.”

The man scowls. “You call Fen’Harel by his name.” Again, the obvious. “Have you no respect?” His eyes move to stare at the white vallaslin on her face. “Clearly, you do not.”

Fen’an rolls her eyes. “Well, aren’t you chipper!” She gives him a tight smile. “Look, I’m going to find Solas, you can come with me if you want, but try not to be an asshole while at it.”

“You dare--”

The elven woman feels a familiar warmth behind her back. “That is enough,” It’s Solas, wearing full Fen’Harel regalia. “I see the centuries have not dulled the acid of your personality, Athras”

“Hahren,” The elven man lowers his head in greeting. “This  _ shem elf _ is disrespectful, it clouded my judgment.”

Fen’an scoffs. “ _ It _ can hear you, and it’s right here!” Is he a friend of Abelas? Because she can see some resemblance in their attitude, that’s for sure. She turns her face to look at Solas. “Who’s this idiot?”

Solas, to his credit, looks a mix of tired and annoyed. “Forgive him,  _ ma vhenan _ , Athras has been fighting Darkspawn for some time now, I am certain his lack of  _ respect _ ,” His eyes go to the man before him. “Is simply because he is exhausted from his duties.”

Athras catches up to what’s going on and is quick to lower his head in her direction too. “ _ Ir abelas, Fen’Asha. _ I failed to realize who you are.”

_ Fen’Asha _ . She-wolf. Great, that’s  _ exactly  _ why he should show her some basic decency and respect, not because she’s a person or anything. “My name is  _ Fen’an _ , and I was named by my mother, long before I met Solas.”

Athras’ eyes stare into hers, and she can swear they reach deep into her soul. “If you say so,  _ Fen’Asha. _ ” 

_ This fucking idiot-- _

“Why are you here, my friend?” Solas decides to change the subject, most likely aware of how close Fen’an is to snapping at the elvhen. “Have you abandoned Urthemiel’s prison as I have instructed?”

_ ‘Urthemiel? He speaks of the Archdemon?’  _ Fen’an frowns, turning her gaze to her lover, but remaining silent.

“The remaining sentinels have retreated as instructed,” Athras replies, also frowning. “I came looking for you so that I may understand why you told us to leave our post; the sacred duty you bestowed upon us millennia ago.”

“You have people guarding the Old Gods?” She asks him, not sure if she should be surprised or impressed. 

“I do,  _ vhenan _ ,” He answers her question before he addresses Athras again. “I ordered your retreat because Urthemiel is already lost to us, and we can not uselessly sacrifice the lives of the few elvhen we have left.”

The elf in front of them is clearly irritated at that. “We were holding our ground--”

“ _ Urthemiel is lost to us! _ ” Solos says it in such a firm and authoritarian voice that Fen’an feels the urge to apologize like a child caught red-handed, even though she did nothing wrong. “Is this an attempt to undermine me?” He stares down at the man, and he is  _ Fen’Harel _ now, intimidating and powerful, despite his still weakened state. “Have you come here to stab me in the back,  _ lethallin _ ?”

“No!” Athras shakes his head. “ _ Never _ . I just want to understand,  _ hahren _ .”

“The Fifth Blight  _ will _ happen in 9:30,” Fen’an is the one who replies. “You would have died had Solas not called you back.”

The elvhen stares at her now, face blank and eyes shining with the turmoil his mind is going through at the moment. She wonders what he thinks of her after such a weird statement coming from her; no one is supposed to  _ know _ the exact year a Blight is coming. “ _ Fen’Asha _ is burdened with knowledge one should not be able to have,” Athras murmurs, reverent, and drops to one knee. “I see it now,  _ hahren _ , I will be on my way, if you excuse me.”

Solas waves his hand, face stoic. The elvhen stands, his eyes still on Fen’an, he lowers his head in a show of respect before his form disappears from the Fade. He woke up.

“You seem to have acquired an admirer, my love.” The bald man raises an eyebrow.

Hold up.

_ Bald? _

“You’re bald,” She says, perhaps dumbly, for it makes her lover chuckle.

“I am,” He nods, his right hand rising up to touch the exposed skin. “I shaved it this morning, in solidarity.”

_ Oh.  _ The Dalish woman feels a warm rush of affection--of  _ love _ \-- towards him, her old wolf. She wants to touch him, but she doubts he will feel as soft as she remembers him when wearing that stupid armor. “Change back to whatever you were wearing before the armor, I want to hug you.”

That makes him laugh. “ _ Ma nuvenin _ ,” The Fade shimmers around him, and what Fen’an sees takes her breath away.

It’s the same wool shirt he used to wear in Skyhold; in fact, it is the exact same outfit. “You can be so cruel,” Her voice fails due to the lump in her throat, and she places her right hand on his chest, feeling the fabric. “It’s unfair, you know?”

His face falls a bit. “I apologize,  _ vhenan _ , I thought--” 

She places her index finger over his lips, smiling. “It’s cruel, but I like it.” She chuckles at what she said. “It’s weird, I know, but it makes me happy and I want to cry at the same time.”

“I am glad you do,” He raises an eyebrow at her, looking infuriatingly smug. “I went back to sleep immediately after I learned that the Templars will be keeping us locked today, you took your time to come back.”

“The First Enchanter needed some of my time,” Fen’an shrugs, still playing with the wool of his shirt. “You do remember what I told you about her?”

“That she knows that the mark exists? Yes.” Solas had not been very happy about it, and that still hasn’t changed, it seems. “What did she ask you to do?”

“She just asked some questions,” The woman traces her fingers up his chest, reaching the exposed skin of his neck. She smiles at his shudder. “I spun some lies, and it was enough for her. She also asked me to see if I could use the Anchor, and it did something different.” She thinks on the peaceful green glow, so different from the searing pain she was expecting.”It just… glowed. Prettily, even. It has never done this before.”

Gently, and with a glint of curiosity, Solas takes a step back, taking her left hand between his and raising it so he can take a better look. “Glowing, you say? Without the bursts of energy similar to lightning?” At her nod, he goes back to his speculations. “It was never supposed to hurt as it did when you first obtained it, but it should not simply ‘glow’.” He is confused, and that’s basically a phenomenon in her book, Solas has always looked so wise and knowledgeable. “Most peculiar.”

“When you first took my arm, you told me that no one but you could survive the Anchor’s power.” She mentions their conversation during the whole Qunari mess. “Could this have something to do with this?”

He hums. “That is a good hypothesis.” He kisses her knuckles, then takes her other hand. “I wonder…”

“You wonder?” She snorts at how easily he loses himself in thought. “ _ Do  _ share with the class, Solas.”

“I have been thinking about my orb,” Solas doesn’t move his gaze away from her right hand. “I have this theory that may explain what is happening to you.” When she doesn’t say anything, he continues; “I believe that, when you died in your future, you were sent to the past so you could be reborn  _ as _ the orb.”

She freezes. The thought is  _ terrifying _ , and she  _ really _ doesn’t want to linger too much on it. Having the orb’s magic was already scary, but  _ being _ the orb… Creators, she’s fucked. “How much do you believe this can be true?” She changes her mind on the question immediately; “Don’t answer it,” Fen’an raises both hands.

She can see it; what makes him believe in it. She  _ had _ shown up in his Temple, where his orb was supposed to be hidden away. She has her arm back, she’s able to use an Anchor-ish thing on her left hand.

Athras said she  _ feels _ like Fen’Harel, in a way.

“I am sorry,  _ vhenan _ ,” Solas says, reading the full-blown panic in her face. “I wish I was wrong, but it is the answer that makes the most sense.”

“This is fucked up,” She feels the anger building up again, but it doesn’t reach the boiling point as it used to. “Am I going to die again?”

“No,” He sounds adamant, and it gives her hope, despite everything. “If you  _ are _ the orb now, its magic cannot harm you, even if it wanted to.”

She scoffs. “That’s reassuring, at least.” The woman looks at her right hand. “Why were you staring at it earlier?”

“Just wondering if you can use the Anchor’s magic with it as well, it would prove my theory.” He takes it again, tracing the open palm with his index finger. “We should not try it while in the Circle, however, it is unwise.”

“I know,” She closes her hand around his finger, pulling it playfully. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about. It’s important.”

“Oh?” He smiles, pulling back his finger without any real effort behind it, playing with her. 

“You killed Gregory,” She says, raising an eyebrow and squeezing the digit harder. “And you didn’t talk to me about it first!”

“ _ Oh _ .” His mirth dies, and he moves his fingers to hold her hand. “I- I am sorry,  _ vhenan _ .” He sighs, voice shaking. “If you ask me, I will not lie and say that I am sorry he died, but I apologize for taking the opportunity from you.”

“I’m not mad because you ‘stole’ my kill,” Fen’an scoffs playfully. “I just wish you had  _ talked _ to me before doing it, we are a team, remember?”

“We are,” He says quickly. “Despite how controlled I appear to be, I am still proud and hot-blooded; my anger at what he had done blinded me, and for that, I ask that you forgive me.” He leans down to touch their foreheads together. “I promise to not do things behind your back in the future,  _ vhenan _ .”

“Thank you,” She says softly, closing her eyes. “We need to be careful, Solas. Catarina is worried that Gregory’s death might cause retaliation or even a Seeker investigation.” Fen’an doesn’t want to think about how the Seeker’s presence would make it harder for them to escape. 

“If it ever happens,” Solas says, and Fen’an open her eyes to look into his. “We have an option. A messy one, but a possible solution nonetheless.” At the confusion in her eyes, he takes her left hand, holding it up. “There is always the option of opening a rift.”

She takes a step back. “You can’t be serious.” Pulling her arm from his grasp, she shakes her head. “You want me to open a rift  _ inside the Circle _ ?”

“It would be an excellent distraction,” It’s his reply. “Besides, the demons would most likely get rid of most Templars and allow more mages to escape as well.”

“Or they can be killed  _ with _ and  _ by _ the demons!” For fuck’s sake, she can’t believe this. “Would you really be willing to cause so much bloodshed for the slim possibility of our escape?”

“For you,  _ ma vhenan _ ?” He folds his arms behind his back, resolute. “ _ Yes _ .”

She believes him. Creators, she does.

And, something in the back of her mind whispers that, if the situation takes a turn for the worse, she would be willing to do it too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Did you guys like it? I hope you did lol. 
> 
> If you want to see more of my writing, please consider following me on Tumblr: @rivainisomniari  
I post some smaller pieces there, mostly solavellan promts!


	11. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s only when she feels her stomach start to hurt that the dalish woman stops eating, sighing happily, and feeling relaxed. Creators, she wishes to never have to go a whole day without eating again. The Templars shouldn’t be allowed to starve the mages at a whim. She wonders if that’s a thing they can do, or if it is considered ‘Templar Corruption” by the--
> 
> “Seekers of Truth!” One of the women near her whispers, shocked, her finger trying to point at the door in the most discreet way she can.
> 
> And, sure enough, by the entrance of the dining hall stands a trio of Seekers. 
> 
> Cassandra Pentaghast right in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I didn't write nearly as much as I wanted to this November :/  
It sucks, but that's life! 2020 hasn't been nice to anyone, really. 
> 
> I have two chapters ready; this one and the next. The next chapter might be posted on the 19th, but I can't promise anything. It will depend on how much I write until then.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this new chapter! And please let me know what you think of our new summary!
> 
> Chapter Warnings: I can't think of any, but do let me know if you think I should warn the readers against something! 
> 
> Word count: 3603 words

The next day, the Templars come to inform that everyone will be allowed out for breakfast. So Fen’an changes clothes, putting on the robes and grabbing her staff. Outside, Willa is waiting by the main door, looking more tired than Fen’an remembers having ever seen her. 

“Come on, ladies,” She sighs. “You all know the drill; stay close together, follow me, don’t do anything that some of the idiots around here may think looks suspicious, and ignore the other Templar following us.” With that, she opens the door and walks out, the entire mass of women close behind.

Two more Templars are waiting for them, both male, and they are quick to follow behind at a certain distance. Fen’an swears she can feel both sets of eyes on her back, but surely they aren’t just watching  _ her _ , right?

The group reaches the dining area, and she sees that the apprentices and the male mages are already waiting at the tables. Tables that have been organized to keep men and women apart.

Fuck.

It can’t be because of  _ her _ , right? She’s certain there are more secret couples than her and Solas. Besides, most of their encounters have happened in the Fade, the Templars can’t possibly know about those. Fen’an shakes her head; she shouldn’t get all worked up over nothing.

She sits on the first empty spot she sees, between two women she’s not familiar with, and fills her plate as much as she could, starving due to the starvation they were submitted to the day prior. Baked potatoes, slices of cheese, bread, fruits… Hunger does make everything look tastier, doesn’t it?

There’s little noise while they eat, all still nervous--or too hungry--to try to talk to each other. Fen’an supposes she’s both, plus the fact that she just doesn’t know anyone around her well enough to try to talk to them. 

It’s only when she feels her stomach start to hurt that the dalish woman stops eating, sighing happily, and feeling relaxed. Creators, she wishes to never have to go a whole day without eating again. The Templars shouldn’t be allowed to starve the mages at a whim. She wonders if that’s a thing they can do, or if it is considered ‘Templar Corruption” by the--

“Seekers of Truth!” One of the women near her whispers, shocked, her finger trying to point at the door in the most discreet way she can.

And, sure enough, by the entrance of the dining hall stands a trio of Seekers. 

Cassandra Pentaghast right in the middle.

Fen’an chokes on her own spit, hitting her closed fist against her chest to try to stop it. When it finally stops, she has to look around the room to find the face of her old (?) friend again. She finds the trio near the Knight-Commander and some of his men, talking. The elf watches them for a bit, trying to imagine what they are saying, and then Marco’s eyes, alongside the Seekers’, are on her.

_ Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. _

She looks down on her empty plate, fingers tapping nervously on the wooden table. What does she do? Should she look for Solas? Stare back at them? Eat some more? She already feels like eating more, to be honest.

Fen’an closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Panic isn’t needed, not right now. There are many possible answers to  _ why _ they are looking at her; she’s the dalish elf inside a Circle, she’s the one that attacked the Templars when she was captured, she had issues with Gregory…

Alright, that isn’t helping.

Creators, she really wasn’t expecting to find Cassandra in  _ Antiva _ of all places. Isn’t she already the right hand of the Divine? What’s she doing so far from Val Royeaux? She  _ shouldn’t _ be there.

‘ _ Well, it’s not like you asked Cassandra what she was doing right before the Blight. _ ’ That annoying voice inside her head says. ‘ _ For all you know, she should be here. _ ’

_ Shut the fuck up. _

Fen’an takes another breath and turns her head to look for Solas. She finds him near Illario, looking at her. He must notice her worry, for he frowns, leaning his head to the right slightly. Then his eyes focus on something behind her, and recognition fills his eyes. 

“Miss…” Fuck, she recognizes that voice. “Fen’an, is it? Can we talk?”

The dalish elf turns, looking at the much younger face of Cassandra, and gives the human the best smile her scared mind can produce. “Of course, Seeker…” She makes a pause, giving the woman an opening to introduce herself.

“Pentaghast,” She replies swiftly. “Cassandra Pentaghast.”

“Ah, the right hand of the Divine!” Fen’an comments, feigning surprise. 

Cassandra raises her eyebrow. “You know of me?”

“I have heard of you, during my travels around Thedas.” She makes a gesture with her hand. What is it supposed to be? Fen’an doesn’t really know. “Well, should we move somewhere else for our talk, Lady Pentaghast?”

“Just ‘Cassandra’ is fine,” The Nevarran woman steps aside and raises her arm to let Fen’an pass. “We should move to an empty class. My colleagues will be there as well.”

Fen’an stands up. “Thank you for letting me know,” She gives Cass a gentle smile. “Really. The Templars around here always keep us in the dark. They locked us in our rooms all day yesterday, they didn’t even give us food.”

If the way Cassandra’s face hardens means anything, Knight-Commander Marco will be hearing an ear-full later. “Did they? I’ll have a chat with Ser Marco.” 

_ Ha! Told it! _

They both make their way out of the dining hall, and Fen’an can’t help but steal a glimpse at Solas. Their eyes meet, and he smiles at her, reassuringly. It warms her heart, as all his smiles do. She feels ready for whatever Cassandra has planned for her, now.

Their exit is followed by whispering from the mages; she can hear them questioning each other about what’s going on, murmuring about  _ murder _ and  _ tranquility _ and whatnot. Good to know she’s not the only one there who’s paranoid. Still, she trusts Cassandra well enough to feel a little bit safer in her predicament; Fen’an knows her ‘friend’ is not one to judge someone for them being non-human. 

Arriving in front of one of the smaller classrooms, the Seeker opens the door and steps aside to let Fen’an go in first. Inside, she finds the two men Cassandra was with earlier; no Templar on sight.

“I’m surprised,” She comments, crossing her arms behind her back. “I expected to see the Knight-Commander or one of his men here.”

The older Seeker scoffs, seeming more bored than anything. “They hold no authority over us, so they don’t need to be included in our investigations.”

“Oh?” The dalish elf leans her head slightly to the side. “Am I being  _ investigated _ , Seekers?”

“Not  _ you _ , exactly,” He admits, shrugging. “The death of the Templars named Gregory is our main concern here, and the Knight-Commander has told us you didn’t get along.”

Her jaw clenches. “It is hard to get along with your jailors.” She walks over to the big wooden desk near the wall, tapping the wood with her index finger. “But ask away, allow me to enlighten you on my suffering.”

A moment of silence follows, and Fen’an keeps her eyes on the wooden surface, as if indifferent to the humans’ presence. More silence, a sigh, and then Cassandra’s voice; “Will you tell us about your relationship with Gregory?”

“I met him when he assumed my ears meant he could touch me however he pleased.” Her finger stops, and she feels the familiar warmth of anger again. “And after I defended myself, he accused me of having attacked him,” She turns to face them, touching her shoulder. “They hunted me through the forest and shot me, right here. Solas tried to heal me, but that only made them want to imprison him here.” Fen’an smiles. “And I fought for our freedom, of course. Alas, I am not powerful enough to kill a full group of Templars.”

Cassandra opens her mouth, but the words only come out after she closes it again to clear her throat. “The Knight-Commander has not informed us of this.”

Fen’an laughs, her snort interrupting the Nevarran woman. “I don’t even know if  _ he  _ knows! The Templars that were there might have lied, I don’t put it above them.”

The third Seeker speaks up. “This is a very serious accusation!” His hand goes to his sword handle. “How can  _ we _ be sure you’re not the one lying to us?”

“What would lying to you accomplish?” The elven woman frowns. “If I were to lie, you would find out eventually, and I would probably be killed for it.” She shrugs. “It isn’t worth it.”

“On that, she has a point.” The older man strokes his greyish beard. “Besides, it has been known for a while that men within the Order tend to take advantage of their authority whenever they find one of the female mages attractive. Her story makes far more sense than the version given to us.”

“It does,” Cassandra agrees, nodding. “Gregory’s death was… unfortunate, yes, but it happened at the right time. We can use it as an excuse to keep an eye out for corruption inside this tower.”

“I agree, Seeker Pentaghast.” He strokes his beard one more time.

“You  _ agree _ ?” It’s the youngest now, nearly shouting. “A Templar this  _ mage _ had a conflict with is dead, and you want to investigate the Templars?”

“Roberto…” 

“No, Antônio,” Cassandra raises her hand. “Let him speak, we need to hear him before we correct him.”

The boy, Roberto, scoffs. “I don’t need to say anything else!” He points an armored finger at her. “Also, isn’t that Solas here as well? Didn’t the Knight-Commander say they came here together?”

_ You fucking piece of- _

“Very well,” Seeker Antonio nods once. “Speaking with this Solas is a good plan.”

“I will take Fen’an back to her table, and then I’ll ask the Knight-Commander to help me find him.” She looks at the elf. “I assume he’s also elven?”

“He is,” She avoids looking at Roberto, knowing she probably would scowl at that little shit. “Tall, bald. Hard to miss.”

With that, they both go back to the dining area just as the others are being escorted out. Cassandra leaves Fen’an with her group before walking over to Marco; the dalish woman tries to keep her eyes on them, but she can’t walk any slower than she is now, and soon she crosses the threshold and the heavy wooden doors close behind her.

She’ll need to ask Solas about it later.

Now, her priority is finding out where the fuck she’s being taken to. The easier way to do it is asking, of course; so she softly taps the shoulder of the mage in front of her. “Where are we going?”

The woman looks over her shoulder. “Sunbathing, we do it once in a while. The Knight-Commander must be feeling pretty generous.”

_ Sunbathing? _ Creators, Fen’an doesn’t remember the last time she felt the sun hit more than just the skin of her face when she looks out the window. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy herself a little bit, certainly. So the group of women make their way up many sets of stairs, more than Fen’an had been able to count when she was taken for her Harrowing. Are… Are they going to the roof?

They were, indeed, going to the roof.

And it reminds her she’s inside a  _ prison _ , no matter how the Chantry wants you to call it.

It’s literally a fucking cage. The entire roof is blocked from the outside world by iron bars similar to those of a jail cell; they are thick and seem strong enough to resist some spells. To prevent mages from breaking them and jumping to their death. 

“Ah,” Someone behind her says. “It has been so long… I do love sunbathing day!!”

Well, yes. At least the sunbathing bit is nice. ‘ _ I should enjoy it while I can.’ _ She thinks to herself, taking a good look around. Despite the unsettling iron bars, there’s some charm to the place; wooden benches and potted plants all around. There’s even a water fountain, oddly enough.

Fen’an sits on one of the empty ones, raising her head and closing her eyes. It feels nice, the warmth hitting her whole body, the early morning Antivan sun still gentle; they have at least an hour before it becomes hot enough to start hurting their skin. Alright, this day hasn’t been all that bad.

“There you are!” Fen’an jumps when Alice suddenly sits by her side. “I saw you leaving with that Seeker woman, are you alright?”

“Alice,” The elven woman gives her a small smile. “I’m fine, she just wanted to talk.”

“About what?” The mage slides closer to her. “Was it about Gregory? I heard some of the other girls placing bets and most think it was about that?”

Fen’an raises an eyebrow. “Did  _ you _ make a bet, Alice?”

Her face turns bright red. “Me? No, of course not!” She shrieks. “I’m just curious, that’s all!”

“Then curious you shall remain,” The Dalish elf looks over to the horizon. “Despite my dislike for this place, I can’t deny the view is beautiful.”

Alice hums, silent for a minute. When she speaks, her voice is slow and scared. “You don’t think they’ll call for the Rite of Annulment, do you?”

Fen’an’s hand snaps in her direction. “No, of course not.” She can’t be sure, but she knows Cassandra well enough to know she wouldn’t call for the Rite. “Gregory died in his sleep, nothing else, and they’ll see it soon enough.”

“I hope so.” The woman looks down at her lap. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

The elven woman smiles. “I’m fine, promise.” She raises her hand. “I told you I was alright, and I mean it.”

Alice relaxes. “I’m glad,” She sighs and shakes her head. “Yesterday was a nightmare, the doubt was eating me alive!” The human looks around discreetly, checking for any Templars, before giving the elf a wicked smile. “So… were you sad you couldn’t sit with your tall elf today?”

It can’t be helped; Fen’an bursts into laughter at Alice’s question, her entire body shaking. “So  _ that _ is what you wanted to ask all along!”

“Maaaaybeee.” Alice snorts, her face red. “It’s just nice to have some ‘secret romance’ going on, you know?”

Ok, that’s alarming. “Hold up,” She interrupts. “How can it be a ‘secret’ if you know about it?”

“Oh,” The human looks embarrassed now. “We girls like to talk, but it’s just a silly rumor.” Then her eyes go wide. “Wait, it’s true?”

Fen’an sighs, and bites her lower lip. She  _ kind of  _ trusts Alice; she has been nothing but kind to her so far, so there’s no reason for the elf to be so guarded other than Fen’an’s own paranoia. Should she tell her? “Well,” She says, her pause a tad dramatic. “We  _ did _ arrive together, so I suppose people would think we are a couple.”

“You’re no fun,” Alice pouts, resting her chin on her open palm. “I wish I could live an epic romance… Circle life can be  _ very _ boring.”

“Alice, a Templar just died.” The Dalish woman raises an eyebrow. “How can this be  _ boring _ ?”

“No one here liked him, anyway.” She shrugs. “Yeah, it was  _ different _ to have a Templar dying instead of a mage disappearing, for once. Still not the most exciting thing, really.”

The human clearly has an interesting opinion on what’s  _ boring _ . “If you say so…” Her amber eyes are attracted to movement near the entrance, and she smiles when she sees Solas. “Hey, if it isn’t my secret lover.” She teases Alice before raising her arm to catch the man’s attention.

Solas sees her and makes his way to the bench where they're sitting with calm steps. Behind him, Fen’an sees the three Seekers looking around, keeping a close watch on both factions. Well, at least they aren’t only suspicious of the mages. It’s a welcome change.

“Fen’an,” Solas says her name softly when he reaches them. “And you are?” He turns his blue eyes to the human mage.

“Alice,” Her face grows red as she looks up at him. “You’re Solas, right?”

“I am,  _ da’len _ ,” He calls her in elven, despite knowing she probably wouldn’t understand what it means. “I hope you are well, despite the forced starvation of yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you!” She giggles. “Oh, you are tall for an elf, aren’t you?” Alice steals a glance at the elf. “Fen’an is really lucky!”

_ Oh, dear _ .

“Is she, now?” Solas looks at her, looking way too smug for her liking. “I must disagree, I am the lucky one, in truth.”

Alice giggles even more, and Fen’an gives Solas her fakest angry face. “Alright, I think that’s enough.”

“You’re no fun,” The human pouts, but stands up from the wooden bench. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone.” She looks at Solas, and then at Fen’an, absolutely  _ delighted _ at what she sees. “It was nice meeting you, messere Solas.”

“And I am honored to have met you, Alice,” The elvhen gives her a gentle ghost of a smile. “I hope we are able to see each other again.”

After more giggled goodbyes, Solas and Fen’an are finally alone. They both sit on the wooden bench, keeping a certain distance to avoid any suspicious looks; so far, they have done a fairly decent job at not being seen as lovers other than the occasional rumor. They want to keep it that way.

“Cassandra spoke with you, I take it.” Fen’an comments, her fingers lazily playing with a leaf of a nearby plant.

“She did,” It's his reply. “It was fortunate that we agreed on a common backstory last night; having differences in our tale would have not ended well.”

“It was genius,” She can’t help but smirk, glad that they are not facing each other, so Solas can't see her face. “Come on, you can say it.”

She hears his chuckle. “Your fishing for compliments is hardly as amusing as you think it is.” Despite his comment, she can hear the amusement in his voice. “It was an effective plan, yes. I appeared to be enough to get them focused on someone else for the time being.”

Fen’an hums. “That’s good,” Still, the Seeker’s presence made their plan of fleeing the Circle all the more complicated; there are now three more pairs of eyes watching them. “ ** _Their presence still complicates things_ ** .”

“As expected,” Solas says matter-of-factly. “ ** _The possibility of using a rift to escape is still available, Fen’an._ ** ”

“We have already talked about this, my answer hasn’t changed.” She reigns in her anger. “There must be another way. You are a rebel, certainly, you can look for other ideas on that brilliant head of yours, Solas.”

Silence follows, and Fen’an knows her lover’s thinking. So she waits, knowing he won’t give her a plan he hasn’t thought it through with care; Solas is a man that, perhaps, overthinks far too often for his own good. “Manipulation.”

“What?” She has to ask, she had been deep in thought and failed to understand him. “I was distracted.”

“Manipulation,  _ vhenan _ .” He repeats himself. “If we can shape the Seekers’ opinion on the dynamic of the mages and Templars in this Circle, we may convince them that Knight-Commander Marco and his men are unfit. Conflict among them would be most beneficial to a possible escape.”

Fen’an hums, now her time to think. It’s a good plan, one she can see working if they thread carefully. Will it take time? Yes, but it sounds far safer than opening  _ a fucking rift inside a Circle tower full of people _ ! “I like this idea,” She says. “We should try it.”

“We will, of course, need to plan it rather carefully,” He warns her, tone more serious than she has heard from him in a while. “A single wrong movement could cost us our entire progress.”

“I know,” Her mind goes back to the First Enchanter, and the classes on how to handle the nobles she’s supposed to take with the older woman. “If the Knight-Commander is discredited, the Circle might go back to normal and we could escape during one of the many parties the Antivans like to throw.”

“The probability of us being sent together to the same event is low, Fen’an.” Solas warns her. “We can not rely on that alone, there must be some alternatives.”

“I just want to try this one first,” The elven woman sighs; she fears that taking harsher actions would cause harm to the other mages imprisoned with them. “Can we try my plan before you try to ‘corrupt’ me again?”

“You do not need to ask me, Fen’an.” He says in a soft tone. “Whatever you require of me, I will do it.”

She holds back a sigh; that’s not what she wants. She wants them to reach an agreement, not for him to blindly follow all of her commands. “Solas, we are partners in this. I hope you remember.” 

“I do,” It’s his reply. “I assure you,  _ vhenan _ , that whenever I see myself disagreeing with one of your plans, I will make my displeasure known.” There’s a hint of mirth in his voice. “For now, your plan is sound, and I find myself hoping for it to work.”

She moves her gaze to the trio of Seekers. “I hope so too…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a shorter one and I'm not sure I'm completely happy with it... Anyway, we need this to move on with the story. Act 1 won't last much longer now.
> 
> Please, leave a comment! It makes me really happy and helps me write faster!


	12. Act 1: Antiva - Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “9:30 Dragon,” Fen’an murmurs to herself. “A whole new year.”
> 
> The human mage hums. “A better one, I hope.”
> 
> Fen’an only grunts. If only she knew...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, as promised! 
> 
> Since this one was already done, I decided to post it this month anyway. Chapter 12 hasn't even left its first scene yet and it might take me a while to finish it :/
> 
> I know, I know... This story is 1yo and there aren't even 13 chapters yet. I feel bad, not gonna lie. I wanted to try to post at last one chapter per month, but it would take AGES to finish this if I did that... Also, there's the fact that I spent a few months without updating when my laptop broke in March... 2020 is shit. Oh! I broke my phone two days ago and won't have a new one until January! Talk about luck, huh?
> 
> Well, this chapter is up! And I sincerely hope you'll like it! Comments would make me really happy, tbh. I am always curious to hear about my readers' theories on what's going to happen!
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Some disturbing 'kinda' sexual behavior is mentioned.
> 
> Word Count: 4608
> 
> Special thanks to the readers that left a comment last chapter:  
Wardenprincess  
Iarollane  
Aisteach  
102Relic  
and Point.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Antivan is kind of similar to the Rivaini dialect Fen’an speaks. ‘Signore’ sounds a bit like ‘Senhor’, and ‘Signora’ sounds a lot like ‘Senhora’; so that part of her lessons is easy enough. Catarina is excited at the progress, full of compliments and smiles; Fen’an can’t help but feel a bit warm, happy at the positive attention. _

_ “You are a fairly decent dancer,” The First Enchanter is beaming. “Although your style is more Orlesian, it will suffice.” _

_Creators…_ _This is making her remember Josephine trying to teach her how to dance the Orlesian waltz. It had been fun, despite Fen’an’s stubbornness at learning anything remotely Orlesian at the time. _

_ “I believe you’ll be an adequate candidate to an entertainer when we start sending mages to those events again.” The Enchanter claps her hands. _

_ Fen’an takes the opportunity to ask. “Do you know when we will be allowed to leave the Circle again?” _

_ “Not anytime soon, I’m sure.” It’s the answer, and Catarina seems disappointed. “This is bad for the Circle’s funds, of course; The nobles always pay us well, the entire situation we are now is most precarious.” _

_ ‘Of course.’ Fen’an can’t help but feel bitterness in her mouth; despite her dislike for the idea of being exposed like an animal in some noble’s private collection, she can’t deny how the money helps to make the mages’ lives a bit more comfortable. “I assume our fate depends on what the Seekers decide, correct?” _

_ “Yes,” If the Enchanter thought it weird how aware the Dalish elf was of how the entire process worked, she doesn’t say. “Seeker Pentaghast is known for her faith and dedication, I have complete faith in her; she’ll find out the truth and all will be well again.” The older woman’s eyes grow soft when she returns her gaze to Fen’an. “She won’t go along with Marco’s biased accusation towards you, don’t worry.” _

_ And again, the elf feels affection towards the human. Why can’t Catarina just stick to one behavior? Either the ‘worried about the Circle’s funds’ or the ‘worried about you’ one would suffice, Fen’an isn’t all that picky. “I’m not worried.” She says, and it’s true. “Cassandra seems like a reasonable woman, and she was kind to me, which is more than I can say about other members of the Chantry.” _

“--You have brought Sin to Heaven. And doom upon all the world.” The voice of one of the Circle’s Chantry Mothers interrupts Fen’an’s thoughts. “Violently were they cast down…” The human’s eyes focus on the elf, pointing at her with her index finger; she wants Fen’an to continue.

“For no mortal may walk bodily in the realm of dreams,” And so she does. 

“Very good,” The Revered Mother says in her thick Orlesian accent. “The Magisters then became the first Darkspawn and unleashed the Blight…”

She goes on talking, but the elven woman is busy trying not to chuckle as she remembers how _ easy _ it had been to ‘walk bodily’ in the Fade. Ah… the memories…

“--Them to wreak havoc upon all the nations of the world: The first Blight.” The Mother continues, and Fen’an’s mind wanders to the many nights she spent with Vivienne, the first Mage Divine trying to convince Fen’an to write her own canticle.

‘_ How would Knight-Commander Marco react to it? _ ’ The idea nearly makes her snort. ‘ _ A mage as the Divine, and a new canticle about an elven mage. _’ Many Templars had deserted the Chantry when Vivienne was elected, angry at the thought of “turning into Tevinter”. The elven Inquisitor didn’t let them go, she charged them with treason and imprisoned them all; Fen’an had used her influence to put Vivienne on the Sunburst throne and she would make sure her friend would stay there. 

In thanks, Divine Victoria allowed some of the mages to remain independent. It was enough for Fen’an; giving the mages _ options _. It’s--

The door to the classroom bursts open, a Templar coming through, his face red. “Revered Mother!”

“Ser Barty!” The poor old woman jumps, placing a hand on her heart. “We are in the middle of a reading of the Chant of Light!”

“I’m very sorry, Revered Mother, but this is serious,” He looks at all the mages staring at him, unsure if he should say it in front of them. “Uh… It is a rather sensitive matter…”

Growing more annoyed, the Chantry Mother marches towards the nervous man. “What is it?”

Everyone keeps their eyes on the pair, curious about what all of that is about. The two humans whisper and Fen’an watches as the Mother’s face grows redder by the minute. The elven woman isn’t close enough to hear what they are saying, but some of the mages that are snicker under their breaths, making Ser Barty clear his throat, uncomfortable.

“Why would he do that?” The older woman hisses, and Fen’an perks up. “I never took the man for a depraved maniac!”

‘_ Oh? Did it work? _ ’ Her body tenses up with excitement and tries to calm her heart so she can hear the duo better. ‘ _ If it did, I have to tell Solas. _’

Despite her best efforts, the other mages start to murmur to each other, and she can’t hear much more. All she understands is the Mother’s sigh and the words that she says to her charges. “I’m terribly sorry, children, but I must end our readings of the Chant early today,” By the look she gives the Templar, she’s very unhappy. “You are dismissed.”

Everyone stands up in the blink of an eye, eager to scatter and spread the gossip they have just acquired. Fen’an gathers her notes, folding them neatly before walking out of the room, bright eyes focusing on the angered priestess and bashful Templar before leaving. 

Outside, the air was bubbling with giggles and whispers; small groups of mages talking to each other as they walk. The elf picks some words here and there, and she manages to put together enough information to feel delighted at the news.

_ That old shit-- _

_ \--naked! _

_ \--I always knew he was a pervert. _

_ \--but touching-- _

Fen’an wants to yell, to jump in joy, and run around until she finds Solas so she can kiss the life out of him! I worked! She had managed to influence someone in their sleep! Oh, she’s bubbling with pride right now, and it brings her back memories of the many Fade lessons she had had with Solas in her ‘former future’. But it’s different this time, easier.

The Dalish elf knows she’s a powerful mage, she has always been, but there’s more to her magic now. The _ orb _. Her magic had merged with the orb’s, with Solas’. She wonders how strong she currently is, how much ‘unnatural’ power she has. The fact that a major part of the magic she feels in herself right now isn’t exactly hers makes her feel a bit odd, as if she’s cheating, somehow.

She shakes her head, and quickens her pace; she’s unsure of where Solas is since she’s forced to take more classes on the Chant of Light than he is (she’s a Dalish heathen, after all). She’ll wait for him in the library like they had agreed to earlier; it’s a better idea than wandering around Templar-filled hallways, aimlessly.

Fen’an makes it there unharmed, and she’s surprised at how empty it is considering her class wasn’t the only one to be canceled due to the day’s events. Still, she supposes the silence will serve her well. So she walks to one of the most isolated and hidden away desks of the library, dumping her notes on top of it; she takes a seat and closes her eyes, mind wandering to the previous night.

_ “You need a strong focus and an even stronger will,” Solas instructs, a smile on his lips. “Thankfully for you, you already have both, my heart. This should be easy with enough practice.” _

_ The woman snorts. “You have too much faith in my ability to stay focused when you are around,” She’s struggling not to stare at him; it has been harder to resist him now that he’s looking more familiar than ever. _

_ His response is a chuckle. “Be reasonable, vhenan,” He says. “I can not possibly ravish you while we are stuck here, can I?” She feels him whisper it close to her ear, right behind her. “Now, focus.” _

_ Fen’an shivers, feeling rather motivated. So she ignores him for now, channeling her attention on seeking for her target’s dream. In the earlier lessons, Solas had told her that it’s easier to influence someone to do things they already feel inclined to do; and her lover had searched for a weak mind for her to train on. A Templar’s mind, of course. _

_ He found an older Templar, a man that has… how can she put it? Exhibitionist tendencies? Yes, that’s an appropriate description. _

_ The elven woman finds him after some time and she enters his dream with no problem; it is disorganized and Fen’an can barely understand what some of the shapes are. The man can’t dream very strongly, not in the way she’s used to experiencing dreams in the Fade. She supposes she’s simply too used to how solid Solas’ surroundings are when he shapes them around him. She knows she shouldn’t compare the dreams of a non-mage to those of a _ ** _god_ ** _ , but she finds herself unable not to. _

_ Shaking her head, she looks around, finding the clear shape of the Templar just a few feet away, talking to one of the blurry beings from his dreams. _

_ The old man is naked. _

_ ‘Creators…’ _

“Fen’an,” She looks up when she hears her name, staring at Solas’ pretty blue eyes. “I have heard about what happened,” His gaze is filled with warmth and mischief. “Congratulations are in order, _ vhenan _.”

Her lips curve upwards and she feels the heat on her face and neck. “Thank you,” She pushes her notes aside so he can place the books he’s carrying down on the desk before sitting next to her. “I haven’t heard any details, though.”

“Believe me, _ vhenan _ , you do _ not _ want to know what happened.” By the look of disgust that crosses his face, she can tell their plan had, perhaps, worked a bit _ too _ well. “It was not a pleasant occurrence to witness.”

“And that’s just what I needed to know,” She replies in a silly voice, snorting to herself. “I can’t believe we did it.”

He rewards her playfulness with a snort of his own before shaking his head. “_ You _ did it, Fen’an,” Oh, how she wishes he would kiss her. But he opens one of the books, diverting his attention to the pages. _ Discretion _. “I was merely a teacher.”

“A very good one,” She delivers the compliment discreetly. “Now all that’s left is waiting for how the Seekers will react.”

She sees the smirk on his mouth in the corners of her vision. Realization hits her. “No!”

“All that I can say is that Seeker Antônio was not amused,” The ancient elf shakes his head. “The Templar had unsavory opinions about Seeker Pentaghast.”

Scowling, Fen’an needs to hold back a scoff. It’s always with the women that men like that one had problems with. She supposes it isn’t that bad that they had chosen that man, then. “This will surely sway their opinion in our favor.”

“As intended,” It’s his whisper. “Now, we wait. And we train for the next step.”

‘_ The next step _ ,’ Excitement fills her veins. They are _ so _ close to freedom… she can already taste it. “Tonight?”

“Of course,” He replies, and they both fall silent after that. She notices some movement, feeling his warm hand touch her knee over the fabric of her robes. She doesn’t look down, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to both of them, so she simply lets her hand fall over his, holding it. 

She feels so silly; secretly holding her hand in a library, like infatuated teenagers. It’s sweet, yet infuriating; how they need to have this ‘secret’ romance just so they aren’t sent to different Circles, miles apart from each other. She wouldn’t let them take Solas away from her even if they found out; the Breach would be ripping apart Thedas’ skies ten years earlier if they dared to try. 

Solas pulls his hand away, clearing his throat and turning his head towards the door. Fen’an follows his gaze to see Cassandra marching into the library, anger twisting the beautiful lines of her face. How can a woman be so attractive while mad? The Seeker moves closer to one of the shelves, looking for something to read, and the elf wonders if she’s looking for a romance novel. 

She makes a decision, perhaps a stupid one, to stand up and walk over to the human. Her lover looks at her with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as she approaches the Seeker, not wanting to make all eyes look in their direction. 

“Seeker Pentaghast?” The woman turns at the sound of her name, eyes full of fire. “Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?” The reply is acid, but there’s instant regret, and Cassandra sighs. “My apologies, that was unworthy of me,” Her gaze goes back to the books. “I suppose you’ve heard about what happened.”

She shrugs. “I think everyone has heard about it at this point.” Fen’an smiles weakly at Cassandra’s groan. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but I have heard some murmurs here and there, that’s why I decided to talk to you.”

There’s half a second of silence before Cassandra replies; “That’s very kind of you,” The human gives her a small smile. “I’m as ‘alright’ as anyone can be in this situation,” Her fingers play with the spine of a book about the history of the White Spire. “It’s not like I’m not used to situations like this, but it’s still shocking to see that someone can hold such beliefs.”

“Well, some people are shit,” Fen’an murmurs, feeling delighted at how Cassandra snorts at her jest. “You seem to be a great Seeker, so I reckon he’s just envious.”

“I’m sure he is a miserable little man,” A smile slowly grows on the woman’s lips. “His bravado didn’t last long after I challenged him to a duel. He lost and now he has all the time in the world to reflect on his actions.” Noticing the flash of confusion on the elf’s face, Cassandra continues; “He’s in the dungeons, locked away until we decide what to do with him.”

“What do you think will happen?” She can’t help but ask. “I don’t think he would have even been locked up if you hadn’t been his target.”

That makes the Seeker snap her attention back to the elven woman. “Are you implying that they would have allowed a pervert to keep his position had a mage been his victim?”

“I am,” Fen’an replies, voice calm. She needs to be extra careful now; Cassandra is not known for taking ‘slight’s against her perceived notions of society very well. Fen’an could lose any sympathy she had planted inside the woman’s chest with a simple miscommunication. “You can ask many mages in here, female _ and _ male, and some of them will tell you about their experiences, while others will swear that nothing has ever happened, but you will see in their eyes that they are lying.”

The Seeker opens her mouth to speak, but closes it a second later, looking down at her feet. Her brows furrowed, deep in thought. “I’ve heard rumors, of course,” And again her gaze moves to the books. Is she nervous about looking Fen’an in the eye? Of admitting the failure of her order? “But I never thought…”

“You never thought it was this serious,” The Dalish woman finishes for her, leaning her head slightly to the right. “I wish I could tell you that I understand, that you are not perfect, but you are supposed to make sure that there’s no corruption inside the Templar order, and the Seekers have failed so far.”

Anger floods Cassandra’s eyes, Fen’an sees it when the woman turns to stare at her once more. She holds her breath; ‘_ I have lost her, _ ’ she thinks, not daring to let her distress show on her face. ‘ _ I have crossed a line _’.

But to her surprise, the anger fades a little, being joined by shame and disappointment. The desired effect. Fen’an has to hold back the urge to grin. ‘_ Careful now… you’re so close… _’

More silence, longer this time around, before the Seeker opens her mouth to reply; “I know you are right, as much as it pains me to say it,” The human sighs, letting her previously raised hand fall to her side. She looks… _ defeated _; just like she had been after the truth about the Lord Seeker. “I will suggest a deeper investigation to Seeker Antônio, and ask that the First Enchanter aids us with it.” She nods, thoughtful. “I know the mages will be more comfortable talking to her.”

“They would,” Fen’an smiles now, a reassurance to the other woman. “I only ask that you keep my name out of any talks about it if you would be so kind.”

“You’re afraid of retaliation.” It is not a question, so the elf doesn’t reply. “I promise no one will be able to trace this back to you, Fen’an.”

With that, their conversation is over. “Thank you, Seeker Pentaghast,” She bows her head slightly, both hands folded in front of her. Respectful; she’s simply a mage while Cassandra is a Seeker of Truth. Respect goes a long way. Fen’an then turns around and goes back to the desk, sitting down silently. She ignores Solas’ look until she sees the Seeker leaving the library, only then does she turn to face him, smiling softly.

“Consider Cassandra Pentaghast a sympathetic contact of ours,” The Dalish woman is the one that seeks his touch now, finding his forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Our plan might come to fruition sooner than we thought.”

“Do not let your pride blind you, _ vhenan _,” He warns her, jokingly. 

She scoffs. “You have enough of it for the both of us, _ old wolf _.” She has the urge to cringe at her own reply. “Fuck, that one was bad.”

“Terrible,” He nods, an eyebrow raised, and returns his attention to his book. “You can earn my forgiveness by being a diligent student tonight.”

“I will be,” Just as she says this, a Templar comes in to announce that the Circle’s activities will be resuming shortly, despite ‘today’s interruptions’. He grows beet red when he says it, and Fen’an chuckles. “That’s my cue,” She stands up, gathering her things. “I’ll see you later.”

She doesn’t wait for his reply, sprinting out of the library. Some of the other mages do the same, and Fen’an can’t help but think of nugs scattering after a bigger animal walks near them. It makes her smile. Ha! Isn’t she chipper today? All excited over manipulating a woman she used to (will?) call a ‘friend’. 

It hurts a bit, she admits to herself. Although… It’s better than how their last encounter had been ‘in the future’. 

_ Fen’an is walking around her room in Skyhold, trying to remember if she’s forgetting anything. This is the last time she’ll ever be in the fortress, and she doesn’t want to leave anything important behind. It was hard to pack with only one arm, but Fen’an had insisted; the few servants that remained had better things to do than help her with her things. _

_ “Inquisitor,” Cassandra’s voice startles her. “I hope I can talk to you before you leave.” _

_ The Seeker is standing by the door, still wearing the heavy armor she had arrived in. She seems tense, and the Dalish elf has an odd sensation on her stomach. “Of course, I’m almost done,” She sounds calm enough, so she supposes that’s a win. “What is it?” _

_ “It’s about what you’re going to do now that the Inquisition is gone,” The Nevarran takes a few steps into the room, her arms moving behind her back, formal. “I’m sure you know Leliana plans to keep looking for Solas,” She says his name with barely restrained anger, and Fen’an can feel her mood sours. “I intend to help her.” _

_ “That’s nice,” She doesn’t know what to say to her friend about her decision to hunt down the Dread Wolf; if she says she knows they won’t succeed, it will probably end badly. “Vivienne offered me the position of Grand Enchanter, but I don’t think I’ll accept.” _

_ Cassandra’s eyes widen. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t; it is a very honored position to hold in the Circle.” _

_ “And yet I’m not a Circle mage,” She shrugs, turning to close the bags on top of the huge bag. “They should choose one of their people to lead them.” Fen’an raises her hand before Cassandra can speak. “Before you say ‘but you are a mage!’, let me remind you that I am an elf first,” Her amber eyes focus on the human again. “A Dalish elf. And all I want is to go back home, to Rivain. To my clan.” _

_ The woman’s eyes harden, and Fen’an has to hold back the urge to flinch. The last time that gaze had been directed at her, she had been in chains, being accused of having killed the Divine. “You weren’t saying that when you told Cole you wished Solas had let you go with him.” _

_ “Ah,” Cassandra’s nostrils flare at her uninterested reply. “So that is what this is about.” _

_ “Yes!” Fists clenched, the woman comes closer to the former Inquisitor. “Yes! This is about how willing you were to abandon everything for that demon but the moment the Inquisition asks for your help, you are ready to run!” _

_ “Solas is _ ** _not_ ** _ a demon!” She swirls around, pointing her index finger at the woman. _

_ The Seeker throws her hands in the air. “Don’t you see? All you do is defend him!” She stares Fen’an in the eye until the elf looks down, shame clutching at her heart. “He wants to destroy the world and you defend him!” _

_“He doesn’t want to destroy the world! He wants to destroy the _**_Veil_**_.”The Dalish woman is on the verge of snapping at her friend. Her hand is shaking. her chest hurts and there’s the hint of a headache coming. “You _**_know_** _him, Cassandra! He’s not like that.”_

_ “I thought I knew him, but after what we discovered?” She shakes her head. “We never _ ** _truly_ ** _ knew him. Not even you.” _

_ It takes Cassandra a few seconds to realize what she just said. It’s enough time for Fen’an’s face to fall, her sour mood turning into sadness far too quickly for her own liking. “Inquisitor, I’m--” _

_ “Save it,” She hisses, choking on the urge to cry. “I get it, he didn’t tell me the truth; he broke my heart and then left. He lied. I get it. Maybe my love wasn’t enough.” The elf grabs her bag and walks past the human, going for the door. “But I’m never enough, am I? I save the fucking world, _ ** _twice_ ** _ , but the moment I try to tell people about Solas, they accuse me of being a heretic rabbit. The moment I say that I’m tired, you call me a traitor. I. Am. Done! I never asked to be Inquisitor, nor the Herald to a god I don’t even believe in!” _

_ Fen’an leaves Cassandra behind before the Seeker can say anything. _

With a groan, the elven woman pinches the bridge of her nose. Creators… that had been _ bad _. It had made Fen’an miserable for days as she played the conversation over and over again in her head. Compared to that, this little bit of manipulation is nothing. 

‘_ And it’s for a good cause. _ ’ She tells herself, taking a breath and trying to push the memory away from her mind. ‘ _ Solas and I can’t stay here if we are to help our people. _’

She follows the other mages into the classroom; picking a training staff. The Enchanter is smiling at them, explaining what they are about to do. It’s a class on healing magic, something that Fen’an has a small understanding of. She’s not an expert in healing like Solas, but she knows enough to get by. Due to this, the healing lessons are very welcome; she’ll need them. 

Just before the lesson begins, the door opens again and Seamus comes in. Neither he nor the Enchanter says anything; the man just walks to a corner, standing there with his arms crossed. Fen’an watches him through the corner of her eyes, but he just stands there, watching. She allows herself to relax, even if just a bit; the man is probably there just to do his duty. 

‘_ Not everything a Templar does is a plot against you, Fen’an. _ ’ Chastising herself, her eyes move back to the Enchanter as he explains the lesson. ‘ _ Just pay attention to the man in front of you and ignore Seamus. _’

The elf tries to have a productive class, she really does; but it’s hard to do it when her entire body is tense. She hates Seamus; nearly as much as she had hated Gregory, so she can’t just _ relax _ when he’s so close. ‘ _ Does he believe in Marcos’ theory that I killed his friend? _’

If he does, he doesn’t show it; at least not while the lesson is happening. When it’s over, Fen’an fears that he’ll ask for her to stay behind, but the call never comes. ‘_ This just shows that you’re paranoid right now, Fen’an _ .’ She thinks to herself as she hurries out of the room. ‘ _ Don’t be so on edge all the time! _’

To her luck, she doesn’t see the damned man for the rest of the day; her other lessons are watched over by different Templars, as usual. The routine wasn’t greatly disturbed by what happened earlier that day, and so the mages seem calm, comfortable. They are walking around in small groups, talking and laughing as they go along with their day; gossiping about the whole mess and having fun at their jailors’ embarrassment. 

A good day for the mages in Antiva, that’s for sure.

When it’s time for lunch, everyone is gathered inside the dining hall. Fen’an enters with slow steps, her eyes search the mages’ table for a free seat. She sees Alice, and Alice sees her; the human waves her hand and points at the empty seat by her side. The elf approaches her friend, just dropping on the bench without much thought, eager to eat.

“Today was interesting, don’t you think?” The human giggles as she watches the elf filling her plate.

Fen’an snorts. “Circle life is full of excitement,” The Dalish elf looks up to try to find the Knight-Commander amidst the Templars. “Do you know if anyone saw how Marco reacted?” 

“Some people were saying he locked himself in his office for the entire morning,” She shrugs. “Others say he cut the man’s cock off. There are many accounts on the matter.”

“And you know all of them,” The elf points out before taking a bite. 

Alice only chuckles, nodding her head. “The First Enchanter was most upset… She thinks this will make it impossible for us to be back at entertaining court before the New Year’s celebrations.”

“9:30 Dragon,” Fen’an murmurs to herself. “A whole new year.”

The human mage hums. “A better one, I hope.”

Fen’an only grunts. If only she knew...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9:29 is coming to an end... and so is Act 1! Are you guys excited for Act 2: Kirkwall? I definitely am lmao.
> 
> Anyway, I was thinking... I will need some NPCs for this story in the future and I had this thought of letting you guys make your own NPCs to the story! Of course, they won't exactly be all that important and I might end up killing them (sorry) but it's an interesting idea. Let me know what you guys think =)
> 
> On a completely different note: does anyone play ACNH? I have been obsessed with it lately.


End file.
